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 PREFACE. 
 
 With regard to the origin and date of this most delightful 
 and popular of Shakespeare’s Comedies there is but little 
 uncertainty. The registers of the Stationers’ Company contain 
 the following entry among others which are found on two 
 leaves at the beginning of vol. C:— 
 
 4. Augusti 
 
 As you like yt / a booke "'| 
 
 Henry the ffift/a booke j 
 
 Euery man in his humour / a booke }> to be staied. 
 
 The commedie of muche A doo about nothing 
 a booke / J 
 
 These are all under the head of 4 my lord chamberlens menns 
 plaies.’ 
 
 The year is not given, but the date of the previous entry is 
 27 May 1600, and that of the following 23 January 1603, and 
 as the other plays mentioned in the entry were printed in 1600 
 and 1601, it may be fairly conjectured that the year to be f j^ 
 supplied is-1600. The play was probably written in the course 
 of the same year. It is not mentioned by Mere s in the list of 
 Shakespeare’s plays which he gives in Palladis Tamia, and 
 it contains a quotation (iii. 5. 80) from Marlowe’s Hero an d 
 Leander, which was first published in the year 1598. Now 
 Meres’s book was entered at Stationers’ Hall on the 7th of 
 September 1598, and therefore between that date and 4 
 August 1600, we have to put the three plays Henry V, Much 
 Ado about Nothing, and As You Like It, which are all men¬ 
 tioned in the memorandum made under the latter date, while 
 apparently they were not published when Meres wrote. Again, 
 
 I I 79660 
 
 O 6 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 VI 
 
 whereas of the other plays, Every Man in his Humour and 
 Henry V are entered again on 14 August, and Much Ado about 
 Nothing on 23 August 1600, there is no corresponding entry 
 for As You Like It, which so far as is known did not appea r 
 ✓ /> in print till the publication of the first folio in 1623^ In the 
 case of the other three plays the difficulty which caused them 
 to be stayed was speedily removed, and we can only conjecture 
 that As You Like It was not subsequently entered because 
 the announcement of its publication may have been premature 
 and the play may not have been ready. Of internal evidence 
 from the play itself there is nothing decisive. See notes on 
 iv. 1. 134, and iii. 2. 326. There may,possibly be a reference 
 in v. 2. 63 (‘By my life, I do; which.I tender dearly, though 
 I say I am a magician ’) to the severe statute against witch¬ 
 craft which was passed in^the first year of James the First’s 
 reign. Again in iv. 1. 164 (‘by all pretty oaths that are not 
 dangerous ’) we might imagine the Act to restrain the Abuses 
 of Players (3 James I. chap. 21, quoted in notes to the Mer¬ 
 chant of Venice, i. 2. 99) to be pointed at. But both these 
 would give dates too late, and they may easily have been added 
 at some subsequent representation of the play, which was 
 mainly composed, as I think, in the year 1600, and after the 
 other plays which are mentioned with it in the entry at 
 Stationers’ Hall. I am inclined to conjecture that the stay of 
 y publication of As You Like I t mav have been due to the Jact 
 y th at the plav was not completed , because even in the form in 
 which it has come down to us there are marks of hasty work, 
 which seem to indicate that it was hurriedly finished. For 
 instance the name of Jaques is given to the second son of 
 Sir Rowland de Boys at the beginning of the play, and then 
 when he really appears in the last scene he is called in the 
 folios ‘ Second Brother ’ to avoid confounding him with the 
 melancholy Jaques. Again, in the first Act there is a certain 
 confusion between Celia and Rosalind which is not all due to 
 the printer, and gives me the impression that Shakespeare 
 himself, writing in haste, may not have clearly distinguished 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Vll 
 
 between the daughter and niece of the usurping Duke. I refer 
 especially to i. 2. 74, 75, which stands thus in the first folio: 
 
 ‘ Clo. One that old Frede.ricl<e your Father loues. 
 
 Ros. My Fathers loue is enough to honor him/ &c. 
 
 Theobald was the first to see that the last speaker must be 
 Celia and not Rosalind, while Capell proposed to substitute 
 ‘ Ferdinand ’ for ‘ Frederick ’ in the Clown’s speech, supposing 
 the former to be the name of Rosalind’s father. It may be 
 said of course that this is a printer’s blunder, and I cannot assert 
 that it may not have been. But it would be too hard upon 
 the printer to attribute to him the slip in i. 2. 255, where the 
 first folio reads, in Le Beau’s answer to Orlando’s enquiry 
 which of the two was daughter of the Duke, 
 
 ‘But yet indeede the taller is his daughter,’ 
 when it is evident from the next scene that Rosalind is the 
 taller, for she says, as a justification of her assuming male attire 
 (i. 3. 112), 
 
 ‘ Because that I am more than common tall.’ 
 
 Again, Orlando’s rapturous exclamation ‘O heavenly Rosa¬ 
 lind !’ comes in rather oddly. His familiarity with her name, 
 which has not been mentioned in his presence, is certainly not 
 quite consistent with his making the enquiry of Le Beau which 
 shewed that up to that time he had known nothing about her. 
 Nor is Touchstone, the motley-minded gentleman - , one that 
 had been a courtier, whose dry humour had a piquancy even 
 for the worn-out Jaques, at all what we are prepared to expect 
 from the early description of him as ‘ the clownish fool,’ or 
 ‘ the roynish clown.’ I scarcely know whether to attribute 
 to the printer or to the author’s rapidity of composition the 
 substitution of‘Juno’ for ‘Venus’ in i. 3. 72. But it must 
 be admitted that in the last scene of all there is a good deal 
 which, to say the least of it, is not in Shakespeare’s be st 
 qiar mey, and - con v eys the imp ression- th a t the , p lay- wa s-. ii nis he ily 
 w ithout much car e^ 
 
 The title ‘As You Like It/ as well as the main incidents, 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 ♦ • • 
 
 Vlll 
 
 y were taken from a novel by Thomas Lodge, 1 which was fi rst 
 printed in 1590. Another edition appeared in 1592, and from 
 the reprint of this in Mr. Collier’s Shakespeare’s Library 
 (2 vols., 1843) all the quotations in the present volume 
 have been made. The title is, ‘ Rosalynde. Euphues golden 
 Legacie, found after his death in his Cell at Silexedra. Be¬ 
 queathed to Philautus Sonnes, nursed vp with their Father in 
 England. Fetcht from the Canaries hy T. L. Gent* The writer 
 who signs himself in full ‘ Thomas Lodge ’ in the Dedication 
 of his book to Lord Hunsdon, professes to have written it to 
 beguile the time during a voyage to ‘the Hands of Terceras 
 and the Canaries ’ with Captain Clarke. In the same Dedi¬ 
 cation he calls himself a soldier and a scholar. ‘To the 
 Gentlemen Readers,’ he says, ‘ Heere you may perhaps finde 
 some leaves of Venus mirtle, but he wen down by a souldier 
 with his curtlaxe, not boght with the allurement of a filed 
 tongue. To bee briefe, gentlemen, roome for a souldier and 
 a sailer, that gives you the fruits of his labors that he wrote in 
 the ocean, when everie line was wet with a surge, and every 
 humorous passion countercheckt with a storme. If you like it , 
 so; and yet I will bee yours in duetie, if you be mine in 
 favour.’ It can scarcely be doubted that the words I have 
 printed in italic suggested the title of the play, the inci¬ 
 dents of which so closely follow the course of the novel, and 
 therefore it is only necessary to mention Tieck’s theory that 
 it was intended as an answer on the part of Shakespeare to 
 a piece of bombast in the Epilogue to Ben Jonson’s Cynthia’s 
 Revels: 
 
 ‘ I’ll only speak what I have heard him say, 
 
 “By - ’tis good, and if you like’t you may.’” 
 
 He further suggests that Ben Jonson as Asper in Every Man 
 out of his Humour, criticises Shakespeare’s comedy, and that 
 
 1 Lodge’s novel is itself to some extent taken from the Tale of 
 Gamelyn, which is put in some editions of Chaucer in the gap left 
 by the unfinished Cook’s Tale. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 ix 
 
 the latter may have adopted the title of As You Like It as 
 a kind of mocking reply. Capell argued from the use of the 
 word ‘pantaloon’ which he found in The Travels of Three 
 English Brothers, a piece which was printed in 1607, that this 
 was about the date of our play. But the evidence from the 
 Stationers’ Hall Registers is conclusive against this. 
 
 I shall now give in full the chief passages from Lodge’s 
 novel, with the references to the corresponding portions of the 
 play. These will shew that Shakespeare not only followe d y' 
 the plot but adopted also the phraseology of his predecessor. 
 
 The story introduces us to Sir John of Bordeaux, a valiant 
 
 knight of Malta, who in the prime of his youth had fought 
 sundry battles against the Turks. On his deathbed he sum¬ 
 moned his three sons and divided his estate between them, 
 in a speech of great length, filled with quaintnesses and good 
 advice. 
 
 ‘ First, therefore, unto thee Saladyne, the eldest, and there¬ 
 fore the chiefest piller of my house, wherein should bee ingraved 
 as wel the excellency of thy fathers qualities, as the essentiall 
 fortune of his proportion, to thee I give foureteene ploughlands, 
 with all my mannor houses and richest plate. Next, unto 
 Fernandine I bequeath twelve ploughlands. But, unto Rosader, 
 the youngest, I give my horse, my armour, and my launce with 
 sixteene ploughlands; for if the inwarde thoughts be discovered 
 by outward shadows, Rosader wil exceed you all in bountie 
 and honour.’ Saladyne, Fernandine, and Rosader^_are__the J 
 
 Oliver, Jaques, and Orlando ot the play, and Sir John Bor- 
 deaux becomes Sir Rowland de Boys. After the old knight’s 
 death, Saladyne^ in a lengthy~soliloquy, considers with himself 
 how he may lay hands on the portions of his brothers, who are 
 both under age. His father’s last wishes being only verbal 
 and not expressed in writing were to be disregarded, and he 
 then proposes to deal with his brothers, beginning with the 
 younger. In this way we are introduced to the state of things 
 revealed by Orlando in the opening scene. 
 
 Act I, Scene 1 . ‘ Let him know litle, so shall he not be 
 
X 
 
 PREFACE „ 
 
 able to execute much: suppresse his wittes with a base estate, 
 and though hee be a gentleman by nature, yet forme him anew, 
 and make him a peasant by nourture. So shalt thou keepe him 
 as a slave, and raigne thy selfe sole Lord over all thy fathers 
 possessions. As for Fernandyne, thy middle brother, he is 
 a scholler and hath no minde but on Aristotle: let him reade on 
 Galen while thou riflest with golde, and pore on his booke til 
 thou doest purchase landes: witte is great wealth; if he have 
 learning it is enough, and so let all rest. 
 
 ‘ In this humour was Saladyne, making his brother Rosader 
 his foote boy for the space of two or three yeares, keeping him 
 in such servile subjection, as if he had been the sonne of any 
 country vassal. The young gentleman bare all with patience, 
 til on a day, walking in the garden by himselfe, he began to 
 consider how he was the sonne of John of Bourdeaux, a knight 
 renownied 1 for many victories, and a gentleman famozed for 
 his vertues; how, contrarie to the testament of his father, hee 
 was not only kept from his land and intreated as a servant, 
 but smothered in such secret slaverie, as hee might not attaine 
 to any honourable actions. As, quoth hee to himselfe (nature 
 woorking these effectuall passions) why should I that am a 
 gentleman borne, passe my time in such unnatural drudgery ? 
 were it not better either in Paris to become a scholler, or in 
 the court a courtier, or in the field a souldier, then to live a 
 foote boy to my own brother ? nature hath lent me wit to con¬ 
 ceive but my brother denied mee art to contemplate: I have 
 strength to performe any honorable exployt, but no libertie 
 to accomplish my vertuous indevours: those good partes that 
 God hath bestowed upon mee, the envy of my brother doth 
 smother in obscuritie; the harder is my fortune, and the more 
 his frowardnes. With that casting up his hand he felt haire 
 on his face, 2 and perceiving his beard to bud for choler hee 
 
 1 So the reprint; ? renownied. 
 
 2 See Gamelyn, 82 : 
 
 ‘Gamelyn stood on a day in his brothefes yerde, 
 
 And bygan with his hond to handlen his berde.’ 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Xl 
 
 began to blush, and swore to himselfe he would be no more 
 subject to such slaverie. As he was thus ruminating of his 
 melancholie passions in came Saladyne with his men, and 
 seeing his brother in a browne study, and to forget his wonted 
 reverence, thought to shake him out of his dumps thus. Sirha 
 (quoth he) what is your heart on your halfepeny, or are you 
 saying a dirge for your fathers soul ? what, is my dinner 
 readie ? 1 At this question Rosader, turning his head ascance, 
 and bending his browes as if anger there had ploughed the 
 furrowes of her wrath, with his eyes full of fire, hee made this 
 replie. Doest thou aske mee (Saladyne) for thy cates ? aske 
 some of thy churles who are fit for suche an office : I am thine 
 equal by nature, though not by birth, and though thou hast 
 more cardes in the bunch, I have as many trumpes in my handes 
 as thy selfe. Let me question with thee, why thou hast feld 
 my woods, spoyled my manner houses, and made havocke of 
 suche utensalles as my father bequeathed unto mee ? I tell 
 thee, Saladyne, either answere mee as a brother, or I wil 
 trouble thee as an enemie. 
 
 ‘ At this replie of Rosaders Saladyne smiled, as laughing at 
 his presumption, and frowned as checking his folly: he ther- 
 fore tooke him vp thus shortly: What, sirha, wel I see early 
 pricks the tree that wil proove a thorne: hath my familiar con¬ 
 versing with you made you coy, or my good lookes drawne 
 you to be thus contemptuous ? I can quickly remedie such 
 a fault, and I wil bend the tree while it is a wand. In faith 
 (sir boy) I have a snaffle for such a headstrong colt. You, 
 sirs, lap 2 holde on him and binde him, and then I wil give him 
 a cooling carde for his choller. This made Rosader halfe mad, 
 that stepping to a great rake that stood in the garden, hee 
 laide such loade uppon his brothers men that hee hurt some 
 of them, and made the rest of them run away. Saladyne 
 
 1 Gamelyn, 90: 
 
 ' Afterward cam his brother walkynge thare, 
 
 And seyde to Gamelyn, “Is our mete yare?”’ 
 
 a lay, ed. 1598. 
 
XU 
 
 PREFA CE. 
 
 seeing Rosader so resolute, and with his resolution so valiant, 
 thought his heeles his best safetie, and tooke him to a loaft 
 adjoyning to the garden, whether Rosader pursued him hotlie.’ 
 
 This scene is closely copied from Gamelyn, except that the 
 weapon in the latter is a pestle and not a rake. The brothers 
 are at length apparently reconciled, but Saladyne was only 
 biding his time. 
 
 ‘ Thus continued the pad hidden in the strawe, til it chaunced 
 that Torismond, king of France, had appointed for his pleasure 
 a day of wrastling and of tournament to busie his commons 
 heades, least, being idle, their thoughts should runne uppon 
 more serious matters, and call to remembrance their old 
 banished king. A champion there was to stand against all 
 commers, a Norman, a man of tall stature and of great 
 strength: so valiant, that in many such conflicts he alwaies 
 bare away the victorie, not onely overthrowing them which hee 
 incountred, but often with the weight of his bodie killing them 
 outright. Saladyne hearing of this, thinking now not to let 
 the ball fal to the ground, but to take opportunitie by the 
 forehead, first by secret meanes convented with the Norman, 
 and procured him with rich rewards to sweare, that if Rosader 
 came within his clawes hee would never more returne to 
 quarrel with Saladyne for his possessions. The Norman de¬ 
 sk ous of pelfe, as (quis nisi mentis inops cblatum respuit aurum) 
 taking great gifts for litle gods, tooke the crownes of Sala¬ 
 dyne to performe the stratagem. Having thus the champion 
 tied to his vilanous determination by oath, hee prosecuted the 
 intent of his purpose thusHe went to yoong Rosader (who 
 in all his thoughts reacht at honour, and gazed no lower then 
 vertue commanded him), and began to tel him of this tour¬ 
 nament and wrastling, how the king should bee there, and all 
 Jie chiefe peeres of France, with all the beautiful damosels 
 of the countrey. Now, brother (quoth hee) for the honor of 
 Sir John of Bourdeaux, our renowned father, to famous that 
 house that never hath bin found without men approoved in 
 chivalrie, shewe thy resolution to be peremptorie. For my- 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Xlll 
 
 selfe thou knowest, though I am eldest by birth, yet never 
 having attempted any deedes of armes, I am yongest 1 to 
 performe any martial exploytes, knowing better how to survey 
 my lands then to charge my launce: my brother Fernandyne 
 hee is at Paris poring on a fewe papers, having more insight 
 into sophistrie and principles of philosophic, then anie war- 
 lyke indeveurs; but thou, Rosader, the youngest in yeares 
 but the eldest in valour, art a man of strength, and darest 
 doo what honour allowes thee. Take thou my fathers launce, 
 his sword, and his horse, and hye thee to the tournament, 
 and either there valiantly cracke a speare, or trie with the 
 Norman for the palme of activitie/ 
 
 Rosader eagerly avails himself of his brother’s offer, and 
 thought every mile ten leagues till he came to the place 
 appointed. 
 
 Act I, Scene 2. ‘ But leaving him so desirous of the journey, 
 to Torismond, the king of France, who having by force 
 banished Gerismond, their lawful king that lived as an out¬ 
 law in the forest of Arden, sought now by all meanes to 
 keep the French busied with all sports that might breed 
 their content. Amongst the rest he had appointed this 
 solemne turnament, wherunto hee in most solemne maner 
 resorted, accompanied with the twelve peers of France, who, 
 rather for fear than love, graced him with the shew of their 
 dutiful favours. To feede their eyes, and to make the be¬ 
 holders pleased with the sight of most rare and glistring 
 objects, he had appoynted his owne daughter Alinda to be 
 there, and the fair Rosalynd, daughter unto Gerismond, with 
 al the beautifull dammoselles that were famous for their fea¬ 
 tures in all France.’ 
 
 Shakespeare has added a touch of his own in making the 
 rightful and usurping dukes brothers, as in The Tempest. The 
 novel, after describing the beauties of Rosalynd, proceeds with 
 the account of the v/restling. 
 
 1 Compare i. I. 48. 
 
XIV 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 ‘At last when the tournament ceased, the wrastling be- 
 ganne, and the Norman presented himselfe as a chalenger 
 against all commers, but hee looked lyke Hercules when he 
 advaunst himselfe agaynst Acheloiis, so that the furie of his 
 countenance amazed all that durst attempte to incounter with 
 him in any deed of activitie: til at last a lustie Francklin of 
 the country came with two tall men, that were his sonnes, of 
 good lyniaments and comely personage: the eldest of these 
 dooing his obeysance to the king entered the lyst, and pre¬ 
 sented himselfe to the Norman, who straight coapt with him, 
 and as a man that would triumph in the glorie of his strength, 
 roused himselfe with such furie, that not onely hee gave him 
 the fall, but killed him with the weight of his corpulent person¬ 
 age ; which the yoonger brother seeing, lepte presently into 
 the place, and thirstie after the revenge, assayled the Norman 
 with such valour, that at the first incounter hee brought him 
 to his knees: which repulst so the Norman, that recovering 
 himselfe, feare of disgrace doubling his strength, hee stept so 
 stearnely to the yoong Francklin, that taking him up in his 
 armes hee threw him against the grounde so violently, that hee 
 broake his necke, and so ended his dayes with his brother.’ 
 
 Shakespeare deviates slightly from the story in giving the 
 old man three sons, who are grievously hurt but not killed out¬ 
 right. In the novel the father exhibits the most stoical forti¬ 
 tude ; but Shakespeare, following nature, and in this agreeing 
 with the Tale of Gamelyn, describes the ‘pitiful dole’ the old 
 man made which moved the tears of the beholders. When 
 Gamelyn reaches the spot where the wrestling was, he lighted 
 off his horse, 
 
 ‘ And ther he herd a frankeleyn wayloway syng, 
 
 And bigan bitterly his hondes for to wryng/ 
 
 I prefer to consider this a coincidence rather than an instance 
 in which Shakespeare has deserted the novel to follow the 
 metrical tale. The latter was not printed in his time, though 
 of course he may have seen it in manuscript or the story may 
 have been dramatised elsewhere. There is not, however, suffi- 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XV 
 
 cient evidence to shew that Shakespeare was indebted to any 
 other original than the novel. But to proceed with the nar¬ 
 rative. Rosader offers to avenge the fate of the franklin’s sons. 
 
 ‘ With that Rosader vailed bonnet to the king, and lightly 
 leapt within the lists, where noting more the companie then 
 the combatant, he cast his eye upon the troupe of ladies that 
 glistered there lyke the starres of heaven; but at last Love 
 willing to make him as amourous as hee was valiant, presented 
 him with the sight of Rosalynd, whose admirable beautie so 
 inveagled the eye of Rosader, that forgetting himselfe, hee 
 stood and fedde his Iookes on the favour of Rosalyndes face; 
 which shee perceiving, blusht, which was such a doubling of 
 her beauteous excellence, that the bashful redde of Aurora 
 at the sight of unacquainted Phaeton, was not halfe so glorious. 
 
 ‘ The Normane seeing this young gentleman fettered in 
 the Iookes of the ladyes drave him out of his memento with 
 3 shake by the shoulder. Rosader looking backe with an 
 angrie frowne, as if hee had been wakened from some plea- 
 saunt dreame, discovered to all by the furye of his countenance 
 that hee was a man of some high thoughts: but when they 
 all noted his youth, and the sweetnesse of his visage, with 
 a general applause of favours, they grieved that so goodly 
 a yoong man should venture in so base an action; but seeing 
 it were to his dishonour to hinder him from his enterprise, 
 they wisht him to bee graced with the palme of victorie. 
 After Rosader was thus called out of his memento by the 
 Norman, he roughly clapt to him with so fierce an incounter, 
 that they both fel to the ground, and with the violence of the 
 fal were forced to breathe: in which space the Norman called 
 to minde by all tokens, that this was hee whome Saladyne had 
 appoynted him to kil; which conjecture made him stretch 
 every limbe, and try every sinew, that working his death hee 
 might recover thegolde which so bountifuly was promised him. 
 Omthe contrary part, Rosader while he breathed was not idle, 
 but stil cast his eye upon Rosalynde, who to incourage him 
 with a favour, lent him such an amorous looke, as might have 
 
PREFA CE. 
 
 XVI 
 
 made the most coward desperate: which glance of Rosalynd 
 sofiered the passionate desires of Rosader, that turning to 
 
 theNorman b ee ranne upon him 
 
 encounter. The Norman received him as valiant y, 
 
 was a sore combat, hard to judge on whose side fortune won 
 
 be prodigal. At last Rosader, calling to minde the beautie o 
 
 his new mistresse, the fame of his fathers honours, an 
 
 disgrace that should fal to his house by his misfortune rowsed 
 
 himselfe and threw the Norman against the groun , a g 
 
 up“: n his chest with so willing a weight, that «,e Norman 
 
 voided nature her due, and Rosader the victone. 
 
 The play from this point differs considerably from the nove , 
 
 not so much in the action itself as in 
 
 instance, in the play the duke’s ammosity > k nd ^ ed 
 
 Orlando when he finds that he is the son of Sir Rowland de 
 
 BOyS ’ ‘I would thou hadst been son to some man else.’ 
 
 Whereas in the novel, after the wrestling it is but when 
 
 thev knew him to bee the yoongest sonne of Sir John ot 
 Bourdeaux the king rose from his seat and unbraced hn , 
 !„d the peeres intreated him with all favourable curtesy 
 Again Rosalynd in the novel, though she ends y g 
 love with Rosader, begins by flirting with him: ‘ ^ acc0 ""^ 
 love a toye, and fancie a momentary passion, that as was 
 
 taken in with a gaze, 
 
 therefore feared not to dally in the flame, ana to ma 
 
 knowshe affected him, tooke from her necke 
 
 it by a page to the yong gentleman,’ who sends her a sonnet 
 
 return Rosader, like Gamelyn, takes to the f-es solely on 
 
 account of the quarrel with his brother. On his return fr 
 
 the wrestling in triumph he finds hisbrother’sigate 
 
 him, and the only servant who took his part was one Adam 
 
 Snencer an English man, who had beene an old and trust e 
 
 Servant to Sir John of Bourdeaux.’ All this is from the Tale 
 
 of Gamelyn, which the novel closely follows up to the poi 
 
 when ‘ Rosader and Adam, knowing full well the secret waies 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XVII 
 
 that led through the vineyards, stole away privily through the 
 province of Bourdeaux, and escaped safe to the forrest of 
 Arden.’ Gamelyn after escaping to the forest, becomes an 
 outlaw, like Robin Hood, while the fortunes of Rosader have 
 some resemblance to those of Orlando. 
 
 Act I, Scene 3 . Rosalind’s banishment, which in Shake¬ 
 speare is due to the hasty humour of a capricious man, is 
 in the novel attributed to the jealousy of Torismond that 
 she might marry one of the peers of France, who in her 
 right would attempt the kingdom. 1 To prevent therefore 
 had I wist in all these actions, shee tarryes not about the 
 court, but shall (as an exile) eyther wander to her father, or else 
 seeke other fortunes. In this humour, with a sterne coun¬ 
 tenance ful of wrath, he breathed out this censure unto her 
 before the peers, that charged her that that night shee were 
 not seene about the court: for (quoth he) I have heard of 
 thy aspiring speeches, and intended treasons. This doome 
 was strange unto Rosalynd, and presently covred with the 
 shield of her innocence, she boldly brake out in reverent 
 tearms to have cleared herself; but Torismond would admit 
 of no reason, nor durst his lords plead for Rosalynd, although 
 her beauty had made some of them passionate, seeing the 
 figure of wrath pourtrayed in his brow. Standing thus all mute, 
 and Rosalynd amazed, Alinda, who loved her more than her¬ 
 self, with grief in her hart and teares in her eyes, falling down 
 on her knees, began to intreat her father thus.’ Then follows 
 i Alindas Oration to her father in defence of Rosalynde,’ which 
 has little in common with Celia’s; and here again Shakespeare 
 adds a touch of his own, for the result of Alinda’s speech is not 
 only that the sentence against Rosalynd is confirmed, but that 
 Alinda is included in it. The incident of the stealthy flight 
 of the two cousins which supplies a motive for the banishment 
 of Oliver is the invention of the dramatist, and he was en¬ 
 abled in this way to bring in his own creation, Touchstone* 
 for whom, as for the other two original characters in the play, 
 Jaques and Audrey, the story serves as a framework. After the 
 
 b 
 
Xviii PREFACE 
 
 sentence of banishment had been pronounced, Alinda endear 
 vours to cheer the spirits of Rosalynd, and the story proceeds: 
 
 ( At this Rosalynd began to comfort her, and after shee had 
 wept a fewe kinde teares in the bosome of her Alinda, shee 
 gave her heartie thankes, and then they sat them downe to 
 consult how they should travel. Alinda grieved at nothing 
 but that they might have no man in their company, saying, it 
 would bee their greatest prejudice in that two women went 
 Wandring without either guide or attendant. Tush (quoth 
 Rosalynd) art thou a woman, and hast not a sodeine shift to 
 prevent a misfortune ? I (thou seest) am of a tall stature, and 
 would very wel become the person and apparel of a page: 
 thou shalt bee my mistresse, and I wil play the man so pro¬ 
 perly, that (trust me) in what company so ever I come I wil 
 not be discovered. I will buy me a suite, and have my rapier 
 very handsomly at my side, and if any knave offer wrong, 
 your page wil shew him the poynt of his weapon. At this 
 Alinda smiled, and upon this they agreed, and presently 
 gathered up al their jewels, which they trussed up in a casket, 
 and Rosalynd in all hast provided her of robes; and Alinda 
 being called Aliena, and Rosalynd Ganimede, they travelled 
 along the vineyardes, and by many by-waies, at last got to the 
 forrest side, where they travelled by the space of two or three 
 dayes without seeing anye creature, being often in danger of 
 wilde beasts, and payned with many passionate sorrowes.’ 
 
 They found, as in the play, verses written on the trees, but 
 they were the verses of Montanus, the Silvius of Shakespeare ; 
 hnd in the course of their journey they came upon a place 
 where two flocks of sheep did feed. 
 
 Act II, Scene 4 > i Then, looking about, they might perceive 
 where an old shepheard sate (and with him a yoong swaine) 
 under a covert most pleasantly scituated.’ These were Goridon 
 and Montanus, ‘ a young man and an old in solemn talk,’ 
 which the travellers overheard. When it was over,‘Aliena 
 stept with Ganimede from behind the thicket; at whose so- 
 dayne sight the shepheards arose, and Aliena saluted them thus: 
 
 ( i 
 
PREFA CE. 
 
 XIX 
 
 Shepheards, all haile (for such wee deeme you by your fiockes), 
 and lovers, good lucke, (for such you seeme by your passions) 
 our eyes being witnesse of the one, and our eares of the 
 other. Although not by love, yet by fortune, I am a dis¬ 
 tressed gentlewoman, as sorrowfull as you are passionate, 
 and as full of woes as you of perplexed thoughts. Wandring 
 this way in a forrest unknown, onely I and my page, wearied 
 with travel, would faine have some place of rest. May you 
 appoint us any place of quiet harbour (bee it never so meane) 
 I shall bee thankfull to you, contented in my selfe, and grate- 
 full to whosoever shall be mine host. Coridon, hearing the 
 gentlewoman speake so courteously, returned her mildly and 
 reverently this answere. 
 
 ‘Faire mistresse, wee returne you as hearty a welcome as 
 you gave us a courteous salute. A shepheard I am, and this 
 a lover, as watchful to please his wench as to feed his sheep: 
 ful of fancies, and therefore, say I, full of follyes. Exhort 
 him I may, but perswade him I cannot; for love admits 
 neither of counsaile nor reason. But leaving him to his pas¬ 
 sions, if you be distrest, I am sorrowfull such a faire creature 
 is crost with calamitie: pray for you I may, but releeve you 
 I cannot. Marry, if you want lodging, if you vouch to shrowd 
 your selves in a shepheards cottage, my house for this night 
 shall be your harbour. Aliena thankt Coridon greatly, and 
 presently sate her downe and Ganimede by hir, Coridon 
 looking earnestly upon her, and with a curious survey viewing 
 all her perfections applauded (in his thought) her excellence, 
 and pitying her distresse was desirous to heare the cause of 
 her misfortunes, began to question her thus. 
 
 ‘ If I should not (faire Damosell) occasionate offence, or 
 renew your griefs by rubbing the scar, I would faine crave so 
 much favour as to know the cause of your misfortunes, and 
 why, and whither you wander with your page in so dangerous 
 forest ? Aliena (that was as courteous as she was fayre) made 
 this replie. Shepheard, a friendly demaund ought never to 
 
 be offensive, and questions of curtesie carry priviledged 
 
 b 2 
 
XX 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 pardons in their forheads. Know, therefore, to discover my 
 fortunes were to renew my sorrowes, and I should, by dis¬ 
 coursing my mishaps, but rake fire out of the cynders. There¬ 
 fore let this suffice, gentle shepheard: my distress is as great 
 as my travaile is dangerous, and I wander in this forrest to 
 light on some cotage where I and my page may dwell: for 
 I meane to buy some farme, and a flocke of sheepe, and so 
 become a shepheardesse, meaning to live low, and content 
 mee with a country life; for I have heard the swaines saye, 
 that they drunke without suspition, and slept without care. 
 Marry, mistress, quoth Coridon, if you meane so you came in 
 good time, for my landlord intends to sell both the farme 
 I tyll, and the flocke I keepe, and cheape you may have them 
 for ready money: and for a shepheards life (oh mistres) did 
 you but live a while in their content, you would say the court 
 were rather a place of sorrow then of solace. Here, mistresse, 
 shal not fortune thwart you, but in mean misfortunes, as the 
 losse of a few sheepe, which, as it breedes no beggery, so it 
 can bee no extreame prejudice: the next yeare may mend all 
 with a fresh increase. Envy stirres not us, we covet not to 
 climbe, our desires mount not above our degrees, nor our 
 thoughts above our fortunes. Care cannot harbour in our 
 cottages, nor doe our homely couches know broken slumbers: 
 as wee exceed not ill [? in] dyet, so we have inough to satisfie: 
 and, mistresse, I have so much Latin, satis est quod sufficit. 
 
 ‘ By my trueth, shepheard (quoth Aliena) thou makest mee 
 in love with your countrey life, and therfore send for thy 
 landlord, and I will buy thy farme and thy flocks, and thou 
 shalt still under me bee overseer of them both: onely for 
 pleasure sake I and my page will serve you, lead the flocks to 
 the field, and folde them. Thus will I live quiet, unknowne, 
 and contented. This newes so gladded the hart of Coridon, 
 that he should not be put»out of his farme, that putting off his 
 shepheards bonnet, he did hir all the reverence that he might. 
 But all this while sate Montanus in a muse, thinking of the 
 crueltie of his Phcebe, whom he wooed long, but was in no 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XXI 
 
 hope to win. Ganimede, who stil had the remembrance of 
 Rosader in his thoughtes, tooke delight to see the poore shep- 
 heard passionate, laughing at love, that in all his actions was 
 so imperious. At last, when she had noted his teares that 
 stole down his cheekes, and his sighes that broke from the 
 center of his heart, pittying his lament, she demaunded of 
 Coridon why the yong shepheard looked so sorrowfull ? Ah 
 sir (quoth he) the boy is in love.’ 
 
 After listening to an amorous sonnet from Montanus, Aliena 
 and Ganimede accompanied Coridon to his cottage, 
 
 ‘ Where Montanus parted from them, and they went in to 
 rest. Aliena and Ganimede glad of so contented a shelter, 
 made merry with the poore swaine; and though they had but 
 countrey fare and course lodging, yet their welcome was so 
 greate, and their cares so little, that they counted their diet 
 delicate, and slept as soundly as if they had beene in the court 
 of Torismond. The next morne they lay long in bed, as 
 wearyed with the toyle of unaccustomed travaile ; but assoone 
 as they got up, Aliena resolved there to set up her rest, and 
 by the helpe of Coridon swapt a bargaine with his landslord, 
 and so became mistres of the farme and the flocke, her selfe 
 putting on the attyre of a shepherdesse, and Ganimede of 
 a yong swaine: everye day leading foorth her flockes, with 
 such delight, that she held her exile happy, and thoght no 
 content to the blisse of a countrey cottage.’ 
 
 The narrative now goes back to the fortunes of Rosader, 
 who like Orlando is driven from home by the harshness and 
 jealousy of his brother, but the story at this point has nothing 
 in common with the play, except that Rosader takes with him 
 his father’s servant old Adam Spencer and makes for the forest 
 of Arden. 
 
 Act II, Scene 6. ‘ But Rosader and Adam, knowing full 
 
 well the secret waies that.led through the vineyards, stole 
 away privily through the province of Bourdeaux, and escaped 
 safe to the forrest of Arden. Being come thether, they were 
 glad they had so good a harbor: but fortune (who is like the 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 xxii 
 
 camelion) variable with every object, and constant in nothing 
 but inconstancie, thought to make them myrrours other muta- 
 bilitie, and therefore still crost them thus contrarily. Think¬ 
 ing still to passe on by the bywaies to get to Lions, they chanced 
 on a path that led into the thicke of the forrest, where they 
 wandred five or sixe dayes without meate, that they were 
 almost famished, finding neither shepheard nor cottage to 
 relieve them; and hunger growing on so extreame, Adam 
 Spencer, (being olde) began to faint, and sitting him downe 
 on a hill, and looking about him, espied where Rosader laye 
 as feeble and as ill perplexed: which sight made him shedde 
 teares, and to fall into these bitter tearmes.’ 
 
 He then rails on fortune in good set terms with many 
 quaint conceits, and finally proposes to take his own life in 
 order to diminish the misfortunes of Rosader. What follows 
 is instructive as showing a contrast to Shakespeare’s tender 
 treatment of the same scene. 
 
 ‘ As he was readie to go forward in his passion, he looked 
 earnestly on Rosader, and seeing him chaunge colour, hee rose 
 up and went to him, and holding his temples, said, What 
 cheere, maister ? though all faile, let not the heart faint: the 
 courage of a man is shewed in the resolution of his death. At 
 these wordes Rosader lifted up his eye, and looking on Adam 
 Spencer, began to weep. Ah, Adam, quoth he, I sorrow not 
 to dye, but I grieve at the maner of my death. Might I with 
 my launce encounter the enemy, and so die in the field, it 
 were honour, and content: might I (Adam) combate with 
 some wilde beast, and perish as his praie, I were satisfied; 
 but to die with hunger, O, Adam, it is the extreamest of all 
 extreames! Maister (quoth he) you see we are both in one 
 predicament, and long I cannot live without meate; seeing 
 therefore we can finde no foode, let the death of the one pre¬ 
 serve the life of the other. I am old, and overworne with age, 
 you are yoong, and are the hope of many honours: let me then 
 dye, I will presently cut my veynes, and, maister, with the 
 w^rme blood relieve your fainting spirites; sucke on that till 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XXllt 
 
 I ende, and yon be comforted. With that Adam Spencer 
 was ready to pull out his knife, when Rosader full of courage 
 (though verie faint) rose up, and wisht A. Spencer to sit 
 there til his returne; for my mind gives me, quoth he, I shall 
 bring thee meate. With that, like a mad man, he rose up, 
 and raunged up and downe the woods, seeking to encounter 
 some wilde beast with his rapier, that either he might carry 
 his friend Adam food, or else pledge his life in pawn for his 
 
 loyaltie. 
 
 Act II, Scene 7. ‘ It chaunced that day, that Gerismond, 
 
 the lawfull king of France banished by Torismond, who with 
 a lustie crue of outlawes lived in that forest, that day in honour 
 of his birth made a feast to all his bolde yeomen, and frolickt 
 it with store of wine and venison, sitting all at a long table 
 under the shadow of lymon trees. To that place by chance 
 fortune conducted Rosader, who seeing such a crue of brave 
 men, having store of that for want of which hee and Adam 
 perished, hee stept boldly to the boords end, and saluted the 
 company thus:— 
 
 i Whatsoever thou be that art maister of these lustie squiers, 
 
 I salute thee as graciously as a man in extreame distresse may 5 
 know, that I and a fellow friend of mine are here famished in 
 the forrest for want of food: perish wee must, unlesse relieved 
 by thy favours. Therefore, if thou be a gentleman, give meate 
 to men, and to such as are everie way worthie of life. Let 
 the proudest squire that sits at thy table rise and incounter 
 with mee in any honorable point of activitie whatsoever, and if 
 hee and thou proove me not a man, send me away comfortlesse. 
 If thou refuse this, as a niggard of thy cates, I will have amongst 
 you with my sword; for rather wil I dye valiantly, then perish 
 with so cowardly an extreame. Gerismond, looking him earn¬ 
 estly in the face, and seeing so proper a gentleman in so bitter 
 a passion, was mooved with so great pitie, that rising from the 
 table, he tooke him by the hand and badde him welcome, will¬ 
 ing him to sit downe in his place, and in his roome not onely 
 to eat his fill, but [be] the lord of the feast. Gramercy, sir 
 
XXIV 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 (quoth Rosader) but I have a feeble friend that lyes hereby 
 famished almost for food, aged and therefore lesse able to abide 
 the extremitie of hunger then my selfe, and dishonour it were 
 for me to taste one crumme, before I made him partner of my 
 fortunes: therefore I will runne and fetch him, and then I wil 
 gratefully accept of your proffer. Away hies Rosader to Adam 
 Spencer, and tels him the newes, who was glad of so happie 
 fortune, but so feeble he was that he could not go; wherupon 
 Rosader got him up on his backe, and brought him to the place. 
 Which when Gerismond and his men saw, they greatly ap¬ 
 plauded their league of friendship; and Rosader, having Geris- 
 monds place assigned him, would not sit there himselfe, but 
 set downe Adam Spencer.’ 
 
 In the conversation that follows Rosader and Gerismond 
 make themselves known to each other, and the latter hears of 
 his daughter’s banishment. 
 
 Aot III, Scene 1. 1 The flight of Rosader came to the eares 
 of Torismond, who hearing that Saladyne was sole heire of 
 the landes of Sir John of Bourdeaux, desirous to possesse suche 
 faire revenewes, found just occasion to quarrell with Saladyne 
 about the wrongs he proffered to his brother; and therefore, 
 dispatching a herehault, he sent for Saladyne in all poast 
 haste. Who marveiling what the matter should be, began to 
 examine his owne conscience, wherein hee had offended his 
 highnesse ; but imboldened with his innocence, he boldly went 
 with the herehault unto the court $ where, assoone as hee 
 came, hee was not admitted into the presence of the king, but 
 presently sent to prison.’ 
 
 Here he indulges in a remorseful soliloquy on the wrongs 
 he had done to Rosader. 
 
 ‘ depth of his passion, hee was sent for to the king, 
 
 who with a looke that threatened death entertained him, and 
 demaunded of him where his brother was ? Saladyne made 
 answer, that upon some ryot made against the sheriffe of the 
 shiie, he was fled from Bourdeaux, but he knew not whither, 
 hay, villaine (quoth he) I have heard of the wronges thou 
 
 « 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XXV 
 
 hast proffered thy brother, since the death of thy father, and 
 by thy means have I lost a most brave and resolute chevalier. 
 Therefore, in justice to punish thee, I spare thy life for thy 
 fathers sake, but banish thee for ever from the court and 
 countrey of France; and see thy departure be within tenne 
 dayes, els trust me thou shalt loose thy head. And with that 
 the king flew away in a rage, and left poore Saladyne greatly 
 perplexed; who grieving at his exile, yet determined to bear 
 it with patience, and in penaunce of his former follies to tra- 
 vaile abroade in every coast till he had found out his brother 
 Rosader.’ 
 
 Act III, Scene 2. Rosader wanders through the forest 
 carving the praises of his mistress upon the trees, and meets 
 with the disguised Ganimede and Aliena. On one of these 
 occasions, ( Ganimede, pittying her Rosader, thinking to drive 
 him out of his amorous melancholy, said, that now the sunne 
 was in his meridionall heat, and that it was high noone, there¬ 
 fore wee shepheards say, tis time to go to dinner; for the 
 sunne and our stomackes are shepheards dials. Therefore, 
 forrester, if thou wilt take such fare as comes out of our 
 homely scrips, welcome shall answere whatsoever thou wantest 
 in delicates. Aliena tooke the entertainment by the ende, and 
 tolde Rosader hee should bee her guest. He thankt them 
 heartily, and sat with them downe to dinner, where they had 
 such cates as countrey state did allow them, sawst with such 
 content, and such sweete prattle, as it seemed farre more sweet 
 than all their courtly junkets. Assoone as they had taken 
 their repast, Rosader, giving them thankes for his good cheare, 
 would have been gone; but Ganimede, that was loath to let 
 him passe out of her presence, began thus: Nay, forrester, 
 quoth she, if thy busines be not the greater, seeing thou saist 
 thou art so deeply in love, let me see how thou canst wooe: 
 I will represent Rosalynde, and thou shalt bee as thou art, 
 Rosader. See in some amorous eglogue, how if Rosalynd 
 were present, how thou couldst court her; and while we sing 
 of love, Aliena shall tune her pipe and plaie us melodie. 5 
 
XXVI 
 
 PREFACE . 
 
 Then follows 1 the wooing eglogue ’ which is somewhat 
 tedious and certainly supplied Shakespeare with no hint. But 
 in the novel as in the play (Act IV, Scene i) there is the mock 
 wedding, in which Aliena plays the priest. ‘ And thereupon 
 (quoth Aliena) lie play the priest: from this daye forth Gani- 
 mede shall call thee husband, and thou shalt cal Ganimede 
 wife, and so weele have a marriage.’ Here, as elsewhere in 
 the story, it is worth while observing that Aliena takes the 
 lead, which is in keeping with her position with regard to 
 Rosalynd who acts as her page. Shakespeare, by making 
 them pass as brother and sister, gives the greater prominence 
 to Rosalind, whose character throughout is the stronger. 
 
 Act IV, Scene 3. ‘All this while did poore Saladyne 
 (banished from Bourdeux and the court of France by Toris- 
 mond) wander up and downe in the forrest of Arden, thinking 
 to get to Lyons, and so travail through Germany into Italie: 
 but the forrest beeing full of by pathes, and he unskilfull of 
 the country coast, slipt out of the way, and chaunced up into 
 the desart, not farre from the place where Gerismond was, 
 and his brother Rosader. Saladyne, wearie with wandring 
 up and downe, and hungry with long fasting, finding a little 
 cave by the side of a thicket, eating such fruite as the forest 
 did affoord, and contenting himselfe with such drinke as nature 
 had provided and thirst made delicate, after his repast he fell 
 in a dead sleepe. As thus he lay, a hungry lyon cnme hunting 
 downe the edge of the grove for pray, and espying Saladyne 
 began to ceaze upon him: but seeing he lay still without any 
 motion, he left to touch him, for that lyons hate to pray on 
 dead carkasses; and yet desirous to have some foode, the lyon 
 lay downe and watcht to see if he would stirre. While thus 
 Saladyne slept secure, fortune that was careful of her cham¬ 
 pion began to smile, and brought it so to passe, that Rosader 
 (having stricken a deere that but slightly hurt fled through the 
 thicket) came pacing downe by the grove with a boare-speare 
 in his liande in great haste. He spyed where a man lay a sleepe, 
 and a lyon fast by him; amazed at this sight, as he stoode 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XXVU 
 
 gazing, his nose on the sodaine bledde, which made him con¬ 
 jecture it was some friend of his. Whereuppon drawing more 
 nigh, he might easily discerne his visage, perceived by his phis- 
 nomie that it was his brother Saladyne, which drave Rosader 
 into a deepe passion, as a man perplexed at the sight of so un¬ 
 expected a chance, marvelling what should drive his brother 
 to traverse those secrete desarts, without any companie, in such 
 distresse and forlorne sorte. But the present time craved no 
 such doubting ambages, for he must eyther resolve to hazard 
 his life for his reliefe, or else steale away, and leave him to the 
 crueltie of the lyon.’ 
 
 After much debate with himself Rosader finally resolves 
 upon acting the nobler part. 
 
 ‘ With that his brother began to stirre, and the lyon to rowse 
 himselfe, whereupon Rosader sodainly charged him with the 
 boare speare, and wounded the lion very sore at the first stroke. 
 The beast feeling himselfe to have a mortall hurt, leapt at 
 Rosader, and with his pawes gave him a sore pinch on the 
 brest, that he had almost fain; yet as a man most valiant, in 
 whom the sparks of Sir John Bourdeaux remained, he recovered 
 himselfe, and in short combat slew the lion, who at his death 
 roared so iowd that Saladyne awaked, and starting up, was 
 amazed at the sudden sight of so monstrous a beast lying slaine 
 by him, and so sweet a gentleman wounded.’ 
 
 Saladyne ultimately recognizes Rosader. 1 Much ado there 
 was betweene these two brethren, Saladyne in craving pardon, 
 and Rosader in forgiving and forgetting all former injuries; 
 the one submisse, the other curteous; Saladyne penitent and 
 passionate, Rosader kynd and loving, that at length natui e 
 working an union of their thoughts, they earnestly embraced, 
 and fell from matters of unkindnesse, to talke of the counti } 
 life, which Rosader so highly commended, that his brother 
 began to have a desire to taste of that homely content. In 
 this humor Rosader conducted him to Gerismonds lodge, and 
 presented his brother to the king, discoursing the whole matter 
 how all had hapned betwixt them. . . . Assoone as they had 
 
XXV111 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 taken their repast, and had wel dined, Rosader tooke his brother 
 Saladyne by the hand, and shewed him the pleasures of the 
 forrest, and what content they enjoyed in that mean estate. 
 Thus for two or three dayes he walked up and downe with his 
 brother to shew him all the commodities that belonged to his 
 walke. In which time hee was mist of his Ganymede, who 
 mused greatly (with Aliena) what should become of their 
 forester.’ 
 
 An incident in the novel, which accounts for the sudden 
 falling in love of Saladyne and Aliena, is altogether omitted by 
 Shakespeare. A band of robbers attempt to carry off Aliena, 
 Rosader encounters them single-handed, but is wounded and 
 almost overpowered, when his brother comes to the rescue. 
 While Ganimede is dressing Rosader’s wounds, Aliena and 
 Saladyne indulge in some ‘ quirkes and quiddities of love,’ the 
 course of which is told with considerable detail. Aliena’s 
 secret is soon extorted from her by Ganimede. 
 
 Act III, Scene 5. ‘ With this Ganimede start up, made 
 
 her ready, and went into the fields with Aliena, where un¬ 
 folding their flockes, they sate them downe under an olive tree, 
 both of them amorous, and yet diversely affected, Aliena joying 
 in the excellence of Saladyne, and Ganimede sorrowing for the 
 wounds of her Rosader; not quiet in thought till shee might 
 lieare of his health. As thus both of them sate in their dumpes, 
 they might espie where Coridon came running towards them 
 (almost out of breath with his hast). What newes with you 
 (quoth Aliena) that you come in such post ? Oh, mistres (quoth 
 Coridon) you have a long time desired to see Phoebe, the faire 
 shepheardesse whom Montanus loves; so now if you please, 
 you and Ganimede, to walk with mee to yonder thicket, there 
 shall you see Montanus and her sitting by a fountaine, he 
 courting her with her countrey ditties, and she as coy as if she 
 held love in disdaine.’ Concealed in a thicket, they overhear 
 the passionate pleadings of Montanus, and Phoebe’s disdainful 
 rejoinder: 
 
 4 Wert thou (Montanus) as faire as Paris, as hardy as Hector, 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XXIX 
 
 as constant as Troylus, as loving as Leander, Phoebe could not 
 love, because she cannot love at all: and therefore if thou 
 pursue me with Phoebus I must die with Daphne. 
 
 ‘ Ganimede overhearing all these passions of Montanus, could 
 not brooke the crueltie of Phoebe, but starting from behind the 
 bush said: And if, damzell, you fled from mee, I would trans¬ 
 forme you as Daphne to a bay, and then in contempt trample 
 your branches under my feet. Phoebe at this sodaine replye 
 was amazed, especially when shee saw so faire a swaine as 
 Ganimede; blushing therefore, she would have bene gone, but 
 that he held her by the hand, and prosecuted his reply thus : 
 What, shepheardesse, so faire and so cruell? Disdaine beseemes 
 not cottages, nor coynesse maids; for either they be condemned 
 to be too prowd, or too froward .... Love while thou art 
 yoong, least thou be disdained when thou art olde. Beautie 
 nor time cannot be recalde, and if thou love, like of Montanus; 
 for if his desires are many, so his deserts are great. 
 
 4 Phoebe all this while gazed on the perfection of Ganimede, 
 as deeply enamored on his perfection as Montanus inveigled 
 with hers.’ 
 
 In the issue she sends a letter to Ganimede by Montanus 
 which brings about an interview, in some respects resembling 
 
 Act V, Scene 2. ‘ I am glad, quoth Ganimede, you looke 
 
 into your own faults, and see where your shoo wrings you, 
 measuring now the pains of Montanus by your owne passions. 
 Truth, q. Phoebe, and so deeply I repent me of my froward- 
 nesse towards the shepheard, that could I cease to love Gani¬ 
 mede, I would resolve to like Montanus. What if I can with 
 reason perswade Phoebe to mislike of Ganimede, wil she then 
 favour Montanus? When reason (quoth she) doth quench 
 that love I owe to thee, then will I fancie him; conditionally, 
 that if my love can bee supprest with no reason, as being with¬ 
 out reason, Ganimede will onely wed himselfe to Phoebe. I 
 graunt it, faire shepheardesse, quoth he ; and to feed thee with 
 the sweetnesse of hope, this resolve on : I wil never marry my 
 selfe to woman but unto thy selfe.’ 
 
 ! 
 
XXX 
 
 PREEA CE, 
 
 Ganimede then goes in search of Rosader, whom she finds 
 with Saladyne and Aliena sitting in the shade and recovering 
 from his wounds. 
 
 ‘ I had not gone abroad so soone, quoth Rosader, but that 
 I am bidden to a marriage, which, on Sunday next, must bee 
 solemnpnized betweene my brother and Aliena. I see well 
 where love leads delay is loathsome, and that small wooing 
 serves where both the parties are willing. Truth, quoth 
 Ganimede; but a happy day should it be, if Rosader that day 
 might be married to Rosalynd. Ah, good Ganimede (quoth 
 he), by naming Rosalynd, renue not my sorrowes; for the 
 thought of her perfections is the thrall of my miseries. Tush ; 
 bee of good cheare, man, quoth Ganimede: I have a friend that 
 is deeply experienst in negromancy and magicke ; what art can 
 do shall be acted for thine advantage. I wil cause him to bring 
 in Rosalynde, if either France or any bordring nation harbour 
 her; and upon that take the faith of a yoong shepheard.’ 
 
 Act V, Scene 4. The day arrived for the wedding of 
 Saladyne and Aliena, and the guests where assembled, when 
 there ‘ came in Montanus, apparalled all in tawny, to signifie 
 that he was forsaken: on his head hee wore a garland of 
 willow, his bottle hanged by his side, whereon was painted 
 dispaire, and on his sheephooke hung two sonnets, as lables of 
 his loves and fortunes.’ Gerismond read the sonnets and heard 
 the story of his loyalty and Phoebe’s cruelty from Rosader. 
 He then, "desirous to prosecute the ende of these passions, 
 called in Ganimede, who knowing the case, came in graced 
 with such a blush, as beautified the christall of his face with 
 a ruddie brightnesse. The king noting well the phisnomy of 
 Ganimede, began by his favours to cal to mind the face of his 
 Rosalynd, and with that fetcht a deepe sigh. Rosader, that 
 was passing familiar with Gerismond, demanded of him why 
 he sighed so sore ? Because, Rosader (quoth hee), the favour 
 of Ganimede puts mee in minde of Rosalynde. At this word 
 Rosader sight so deeply, as though his heart would have burst. 
 And whats the matter (quoth Gerismond) that you quite mee 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Xxxi 
 
 with such a sigh ? Pardon me, sir (quoth Rosader), because 
 I love none but Rosalynd. And upon that condition (quoth 
 Gerismond) that Rosalynd were here, I would this day make 
 up a marriage betwixt her and thee. At this Aliena turnd 
 her head and smilde upon Ganimede, and shee could scarce 
 keep countenance. Yet shee salved all with secrecie; and 
 Gerismond, to drive away his dumpes, questioned with Gani¬ 
 mede, what the reason was he regarded not Phcebes love, 
 seeing she was as faire as the wanton that brought Troy to 
 ruine? Ganimede mildly answered, If I shuld affect the faire 
 Phoebe, I should offer poore Montanus great wrong to winne 
 that from him in a moment, that hee hath labored for so many 
 monthes. Yet have I promised to the bewtiful shepheardesse 
 to wed my selfe never to woman except unto her; but with 
 this promise, that if I can by reason suppresse Phoebes love 
 towards me, she shall like of none but of Montanus. To that, 
 q. Phoebe, I stand; for my love is so far beyond reason, 
 as wil admit no persuasion of reason. For justice, q. he, 
 I appeale to Gerismond: and to his censure wil I stand, q. 
 Phoebe. And in your victory, q. Montanus, stands the hazard 
 of my fortunes, for if Ganimede go away with conquest, Mon¬ 
 tanus is in conceit loves monarch: if Phoebe winne, then am 
 1 in effect most miserable. We wil see this controversie, q. 
 Gerismond, and then we will to church: therefore, Ganimede, 
 led us heare your argument. Nay, pardon my absence a while 
 (quoth shee), and you shall see one in store. 
 
 ‘ In went Ganimede and drest her self in womans attire, 
 having on a gowne of greene, with kirtle of rich sandall, so 
 quaint, that she seemed Diana triumphing in the torrest: upon 
 her head she wore a chaplet of roses, which gave her such 
 a grace that she looked like Flora pearkt in the pride of all her 
 fioures. Thus attired came Rosalind in, and presented hir 
 self at hir fathers feete, with her eyes full of teares, craving 
 his blessing, and discoursing unto him all her fortunes, how 
 shee was banished by Torismond, and how ever since she lived 
 in that country disguised.’ 
 
XXX11 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The part of Hymen in the play is in the novel performed 
 by the priest at the church, and all ends happily. In the midst 
 of the wedding festivities, ‘ word was brought in to Saladyne 
 and Rosader that a brother of theirs, one Fernandine, was 
 arived, and desired to speake with them/ He brings the 
 news to Gerismond that the twelve peers of France were up 
 in arms to recover his right, and Torismond was ready to bid 
 them battle. Gerismond with Saladyne and Rosader joined 
 the peers in battle. Torismond’s army was put to flight and 
 himself slain. Gerismond made Rosader his heir apparent, 
 restored to Saladyne his father’s land, and appointed Fernan¬ 
 dine his principal secretary, Montanus lord over all the forest 
 of Arden, Adam Spencer captain of the king’s guard, and 
 Coridon master of Alinaa’s flocks. 
 
 It is unnecessary to point out in detail the manner in which 
 Shakespeare dealt with the story on which he founded his 
 play, and which he made as it were a framework for his own 
 creations, Jaques, Touchstone, and Audrey. Enough has 
 been given to enable the reader to do this for himself. 
 
 The character of Adam has a personal interest in connexion 
 with Shakespeare, because an old tradition which was current 
 in the last century attributed to the poet the performance of 
 this part in his own play. 
 
 From Oldys’s collections for a life of Shakespeare, which 
 covered several quires of paper, Steevens extracted the fol¬ 
 lowing story, which must be taken for what such gossip is 
 usually worth. 
 
 ‘ One of Shakespeare’s younger brothers, who lived to a good 
 old age, even some years, as I compute, after the restoration 
 of K. Charles II, would in his younger days come to London 
 to visit his brother Will, as he called him, and be a spectator 
 of him as an actor in some of his own plays. This custom, as 
 his brother’s fame enlarged, and his dramatic entertainments 
 grew the greatest support of our principal, if not of all our 
 theatres, he continued it seems so long after his brother’s 
 death, as even to the latter end of his own life. The curiosity 
 
PREFA CE. 
 
 xxxiii 
 
 at this time of the most noted actors to learn something from 
 him of his brother, &c., they justly held him in the highest 
 veneration. And it may be well believed, as there was besides 
 a kinsman and descendant of the family, who was then a cele¬ 
 brated actor among them \Charles Harte\ see Shakespeare’s 
 Will], this opportunity made them greedily inquisitive into 
 every little circumstance, more especially in his dramatick 
 character, which his brother could relate of him. But he, it 
 seems, was so stricken in years, and possibly his memory so 
 weakened with infirmities (which might make him the easier 
 pass for a man of weak intellects) that he could give them but 
 little light into their enquiries; and all that could be recollected 
 from him of his brother Will, in that station was, the faint, 
 general, and almost lost ideas he had of having once seen him 
 act a part in one of his own comedies, wherein being to per¬ 
 sonate a decrepit old man, he wore a long beard, and appeared 
 so weak and drooping and unable to walk, that he was forced 
 to be supported and carried by another person to a table, at 
 which he was seated among some company, who were eating, 
 and one of them sung a song.’ 
 
 To the same effect Gapell writes :— 
 
 ‘ A traditional story was current some years ago about Strat¬ 
 ford,—that a very old man of that place,—of weak intellects, 
 but yet related to Shakespeare,—being ask’d by some of his 
 neighbours, what he remember’d about him; answer’d,—that 
 he saw him once brought on the stage upon another man’s 
 back ; which answer was apply’d by the hearers, to his having 
 seen him perform in this scene the part of Adam.’ 
 
 This story came to Gapell from Mr. Thomas Jones of 
 Turbich (or Tarbick) (in Worcestershire), and Malone sug¬ 
 gests that he may have heard it from Richard Quiney (died 
 1656, xt. 69) orThomas Quiney, Shakespeare’s son-in-law, who 
 lived till 1663 or thereabouts, or from one of the Hathaways. 
 
 The comparison of the world to a theatre, and the divi¬ 
 sion of man’s life into seven ages, though best known from 
 Shakespeare, are not of his own invention. In the old play 
 
 c 
 
XXXIV 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 of Damon and Pythias (Dodsley’s Old Plays, ed. Hazlitt, iv. 
 31) the following passage occurs : 
 
 ‘ Pythagoras said, that this world was like a stage, 
 
 Where many play their parts : the lookers on, the sage 
 Philosophers are, saith he, whose part is to learn 
 The manners of all nations, and the good from the bad to 
 discern.’ 
 
 Cervantes has the same comparison in Don Quixote (part ii, 
 cap. 12). 
 
 We find in Arnold’s Chronicle (ed. 1811), p. 157, quoted by 
 Staunton : 
 
 4 The vij. Ages of Ma liuing I the World. 
 
 The furst age is infancie and lastith from y e byrth vnto vij. 
 yere of age. The ij. is childhod and endurith vnto xv. yere 
 age. The iij. age is adholocencye and endurith vnto xxv. 
 yere age. The iiij. age is youthe and endurith vnto xxxv. yere 
 age. The v. age is manhod and endurith vnto 1 . yere age. 
 The vi. age is [elde] and lasteth vnto lxx. yere age. The vij. 
 age of ma is crepill and endurith vnto dethe.’ 
 
 A good deal of the literature of this subject has been col¬ 
 lected by Mr. Winter Jones, in an interesting paper which he 
 published in the Archaeologia (xxxv. 167-189) on a block print 
 of the fifteenth century which is in the British Museum. The 
 so-called verses of Solon, quoted by Philo, De opificio mundi, are 
 there given, as well as the passage in which Philo attributes to 
 Hippocrates the division of man’s life into seven periods. In 
 the Mishna (Aboth, V. 24) fourteen periods are given, and a 
 poem upon the ten stages of life was written by the great Jewish 
 commentator Ibn Ezra. The Midrash on Ecclesiastes i. 2 
 goes back to the seven divisions. The Jewish literature is very 
 fully given by Low in his treatise Die Lebensalter in der Jiidi- 
 scben Literatur. Sir Thomas Browne devotes a chapter of his 
 Vulgar Errors (iv. 12) to a consideration of the various divisions 
 which have been proposed. Some verses of an early German 
 poem on the ages of man’s life are quoted by Mr. Winter Jones 
 and illustrated by quaint woodcuts. The subject was one with 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 which Shakespeare might have become familiar from many 
 sources, and as an instance of one of the forms in which it is 
 emblematically treated I would refer to the pavement of the 
 Cathedral of Siena, of which a description is given by Professor 
 Sidney Colvin in the Fortnightly Review for July 1875 (pp. 
 53, 4). After describing other portions he says, ‘And then, 
 about 1473, begins a period of immense activity. One little 
 set of emblems in the south transept, defaced but singularly 
 beautiful, belongs to this period, and differs strangely from all 
 the other work done in it. The seven ages of man are shewn in 
 single white figures set in squares or diamonds of black. These 
 ages are not divided as usual: four divisions are given to the 
 time before manhood, as if to draw out as much as possible 
 that season when life is life indeed. There is no mewling and 
 puking, nor any whining schoolboy: Infantia is a naked child 
 playing among flowers; Pueritia an Italian boy in short cloak 
 and cap walking in the fields; the season of youth is spun out, 
 always among flowers, through Adolescentia and Juventus; man¬ 
 hood is not a soldier full of strange oaths and bearded like a 
 pard, but a studious citizen walking with open book; Decrepitas 
 moves, over a land flowerless at last, on crutches to his open 
 grave.’ 
 
 I cannot conclude this Preface without especially mentioning 
 a work which marks an era in Shakespeare literature, the 
 Shakespeare Lexicon of Dr. Alexander Schmidt of Konigsberg. 
 My own obligations to it are too numerous to record, for 
 I have used it constantly and always with advantage. It is 
 a book which every real student of Shakespeare should have 
 at hand. 
 
 Trinity College Cambridge, 
 2 October , 1876. 
 
 W. A. WRIGHT. 
 
ADDITIONAL NOTE. 
 
 III. 2. 243 The statement that ‘moe> is used oa/ywith the plural 
 equtres a slight modification. So far as I am aware there is but one 
 stance in Shakespeare where it is not immediately followed by a plural 
 
 o‘u„ds ■ B n , Th :b Tempest ; v - ’• 234 (fc * ‘ A " d 
 
 I idea oV ° aSe 3 ,he PhraK ‘ diVerSily ° f S0UndS ' 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSON/E. 
 
 Duke, living in banishment. 
 
 Frederick, his brother, and usurper of 
 his dominions. 
 
 Amiens, \lords attending on the banished 
 JAQUES, J duke. 
 
 Le Beau, a courtier attending upon Frede¬ 
 rick. 
 
 Charles, wrestler to Frederick. 
 
 Oliver, ) 
 
 Jaques, ' > sons of Sir Rowland de Boys, 
 ORLANDO, J 
 
 DENNis,} SerVantS t0 01iVer - 
 Touchstone, a clown. 
 
 Sir Oliver Martext, a vicar. 
 
 SILVIUS,} she P herds - 
 William, a country fellow, in love with 
 Audrey. 
 
 A person representing Hymen. 
 
 Rosalind, daughter to the banished duke. 
 Celia, daughter to Frederick. 
 
 Phebe. a shepherdess. 
 
 AUDREY, a country wench. 
 
 Lords, pages, and attendants, &c. 
 
 SCENE: Oliver's house; Duke Frederick's 
 court ; and the Forest of Arden. 
 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 NE I. O rchar d of Oliver's bouse. 
 Enter Orlando and Adam. 
 
 Qrl. Us I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion be- 
 queatheaV me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as 
 
 charged my brother, on his blessing ; to breed 6-ruX^c ixJl. 
 me well: chid there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques 
 he keeps at\school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit: 
 for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak I 
 more properly, stays me here at home unkept; for call you 
 that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not 
 from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better; 
 for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are 
 taught their manage, and to that end ride^^dearly hired 
 but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for 
 the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to 
 him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives 
 

 
 Uaht*, 
 
 2 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 MYi^ra^zt^ 
 
 me, the something that nature gave me his countemflce seems 
 to take from me: he lets me feed with his hiqjjfs , bars me 
 the place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines 
 my gentilit ywith my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves 
 me; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, 
 begins to mutiny against this servitude: I will no longer 
 endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid 
 
 Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. 
 
 OrL Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will 
 shake me up. 
 
 Enter OLIVER. 
 
 Now, sir! what make you here? do 
 Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing. 
 What mar you then, sir? 
 
 Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God 
 made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. 
 
 OIL Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naugh t 
 awhi le. ^ , 32 
 
 p Orl. Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them? 
 
 'L . fot/USt-What prodigal portion hav£ Tspjnt, th# I shpuld come to 
 
 OIL 
 
 Orl. 
 
 OIL 
 
 Orl. 
 
 such penury ? 
 
 OIL Know you where you are, sir? 
 
 Orl. O, sir, very well: here in your orchard. 
 
 OIL Know you before whom, sir ? 
 
 Orl. Ay, better thanm rn fam^dore knows me. I know 
 you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle condition of 
 blood, you should so know me. The courtesy of nations 
 allows you my better, in that you are the first-born; but the 
 same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty 
 brothers betwixt us: I have as much of my father in me as 
 you; albeit, ^confess, your coming before me is nearer to 
 
 What, boy! COvLlW* Lit* 
 
 0rl - Come, come, elder brother, you are too, "young in 
 

 tlL 
 
 ~t» 
 
 (Kcjl 
 
 OtA 
 
 
 ACT /.A SCENE /. 
 
 OU. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? 50 
 
 Orl. I am no villainj I am the youngest son of Sir Row- 
 land de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice a villain aOicE&UAu.^ 
 that says such a father begot villains. Wert thou not my 
 brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat till this 
 other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so ; thou hast 
 railed on thyself. 
 
 Adam. Sweet masters, be patient: for y our father’s r e¬ 
 membra nce, be at accord, O-c^ Ajl cj 
 
 Oli. Let me go, I say. J 59 
 
 Orl. I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. My 
 father, charged you in his will to give me good education: 
 you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding 
 from me all gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father 
 grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it: there¬ 
 fore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, — 
 or give me the poor allottery my father left me by testa- 
 ment: with that I will go buy my fortunes. 
 
 Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent? 
 
 Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be troubled with you; • 
 you shall have some part of your will: I pray you, leave 
 me. 71 
 
 Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes me for 
 my good. 
 
 Oli. Get you with him, you old dog. 
 
 Adam. Is ‘old dog’ my reward? Most true, I have lost 
 my teeth in your service, God be with my old master! he 
 would not have spoke such a word, 
 
 [.Exeunt Orlando and Adam. 
 
 \i/yC\LPli' ^ even so * be &* n y° u to grow u^on^mV? '"^t’wiU^ 
 
 ^physic your rankness , and yet give no thousand crowns neither. 
 
 Holla, Dennis! ^ 
 
 Enter Dennis. 
 
 Den. Calls your worship? 
 
 Oli. Was not Charles, the duke’s wrestler, here to speak 
 with me? 
 
 B 2 
 
4 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT . 
 
 u iyuAti 4 
 
 J U1 
 
 
 Den. So please you, he is here at the door and importunes 
 access to you. 
 
 Oil. Call him in. [Exit Dennis.\ ’Twill be a good way; 
 and to-morrow the wrestling is. 
 
 Enter CHARLES. 
 
 Cba. Good morrow to your worship. 
 
 Oli. Good Monsieur Charles, what’s the new news at the 
 new court? 9 o 
 
 Cha. There’s no news at the court, sir, but the old news: 
 that is, the old duke is banished by his younger brother the 
 new duke; and three or four loving lords have put them¬ 
 selves into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues 
 enrich the new duke; therefore he gives them good leave to 
 wander. v*. 
 
 Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke’s daughter, be 
 
 banished with her father? 9 8 
 
 Cha. O, no; for the duke’s daughter, her cousin, so loves 
 er, being- ever from their cradles bred together, that she 
 ouId have followed her exile, or have died to st ay be - 
 ind her. She is at the court, and no less beloved of her 
 uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as 
 they do. 
 
 OH. Where will the old duke live? 
 
 Cha. They say he is already in the forest of Arden, and 
 a many merry men with him; and there they live like the 
 old Robin Hood of England: they say many young gentle¬ 
 men flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as 
 they did in the gold en world . no 
 
 Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the newMuke ? 
 
 Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with 
 a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand that your 
 younger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come in 
 disguised against me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I wrestle 
 for my credit; and he that escapes me without some broken 
 limb sh all acquit him well. Your brother is but young and 
 tender; and, for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as 
 
 UJXQJ? CoQtUZ 
 

 (V r iXyjh., kXaJa,O iA 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 
 I must, for my own honour, if he come in: therefore, out 
 of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal, 
 that either you might stay him from his intendme nt or brook 
 such disgrace well as he shall run into, in that it is a thing / 
 of his own search and altogether against my will. 123 
 
 
 Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which 
 thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself 
 notice of my brother’s purpose herein and have b y und er- faCJUl&L Q 
 hand means laboured to dissuade him from it, but he is bfatr\,fo t 
 
 resolute. I’ll tell thee, Charles: it is the stubbornest young 
 fellow of France, full of ambition, an envious emulator gf : -f u i^v u 
 
 every man’s good parts, a secret and villanous contriver-- 
 
 6 Z Cv. against me his natural brother: therefore use thy discretion ; 
 
 
 ogauiai me ms udLuidi uuiuier; uiereiore use my discretion; 
 
 I had as lie f thou didst break his neck as his finger. AncJ. 
 thou wert best look to’t; for if thou dost him any slight 
 disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on theefhe 
 will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some 
 treacherous device and never leave thee till he hath ta’en 
 thy life by some indirect means or other; fpr, I assure thee, 
 and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one so young 
 and so villanous this day living. I speak but brotherly of 
 him; but should I anatomiz e him to thee as he is, I must Jj&u TajC* 
 blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder. 141 UuuEta OOJUL 
 
 Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he 
 come tc-morrow, I’ll give him his paym ent: if ever he go 
 alone again, I’ll never wrestle for prize more: and so, God 
 keep your worship! 
 
 Oli. Farewell, good Charles. [Exit Charles .] Now will 
 I stir this gamester : I hope I shall see an end of him; for/^ 
 my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he.'iyidJlulM. 
 
 Yet he^s gentle, never schooledand yet learned, full of nobj ey 
 UjgA. device, of all sorts enchan tinglybeloved, and indeed so much if/ 3 » 
 r JL ' in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people, ^ ^ 
 
 who best know him, that I am altogether jnisprised : but it 
 shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all: nothing . 
 
 remains but that I kindle the boy thither; which now I’ll La \JtAjbzi-. 
 
 go about . U/x^f^Exi 
 
 * / 
 
 --- ---f ‘ y M ~ 
 
6 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 SCENE II. Lawn before the Duke's palace. 
 
 Enter Celia and ROSALINI). 
 
 Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. 
 
 Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mis¬ 
 tress of; and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you 
 could teach me to forget a banished father, you must net 
 learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure. 
 
 Cel. Herein I see thou lovest me not with the full 
 weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, 
 (prMTtdjjj $ iad banished thy uncle, the duke my father, _so_thou hadst 
 lA i been still with me, I could have taught my love to take 
 
 thy father for mine: so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy 
 love to me were so righteously tempered as mine is to 
 thee. 12 
 
 Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to 
 rejoice in yours. 
 
 Cel. You know my father hath no child but I, nor none 
 is like to have: and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt be his 
 heirTfor what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, 
 
 -; > - — 
 
 pr'jJUiUuL I will render thee again in affection; by mine honour, I will; 
 0 (jQxJf and when 1 break that oath,'let me turn monster: therefore, 
 
 my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. 
 
 Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let 
 me see; what think you of falling in love? 22 
 
 Cel. Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal: but love 
 no man in good earnest; nor no further in sport neither than , 
 with safety of a pure blush thou ^ayst in honour c ome- off *" 1 r 1 
 a g a ; n> " Coi cA~. 
 
 Ros. What shall be our sport, then? 
 
 Cel. Let usj^it and mock the good housewife Fortune 
 from her wheey that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed 
 equally. 3 ° 
 
 Ros. I would we could do so, for her benefits are mightily 
 
 

 ACT I. SCENE II. 
 
 1 
 
 misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake 
 in her gifts to women. 
 
 Cel. ’Tis true; for those that she makes fair she scarce 
 makes hones t, and those that she makes honest she makes 
 very ill-favouredly. £***. Avu < 
 
 Ros. Nay, now thou goest from Fortune’s office to Nature’s: 
 Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments 
 of Nature. 39 
 
 Enter TOUCHSTONE. 
 
 Cel. No? when Nature hath made a fair creature, may 
 she not by Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature hath 
 given us wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in^ | 
 this fool to cut off the argument ? IH* 0 ‘ 
 
 Ros. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when . _ 
 
 Fortune makes Nature’s natura l the cutter-off of Nature’s 
 wit. 
 
 Cel. Peradventure this is not Fortune’s work neither, t 
 but Nature’s; who perceiveth our natural wits too dull 
 reason of such goddesses and hath sent this natural for our txAsK. 
 whetstone; for always the dulness of the fool is the whet¬ 
 stone of the wits. How now, wit! whither wander you ? 
 
 Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your father. 
 
 Cel. Were you made the messenger? 53 
 
 Touch. No, by mine honour, but I was bid to come for 
 you. 
 
 Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool? 
 
 Touch. Of a certain knight that swore by his honour 
 they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour the 
 mustard was naught: now I’ll stand to it, the pancakes 
 were naught and the mustard was good, and yet was not 
 the knight forsworn. 61 
 
 Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of your 
 knowledge ? 
 
 Ros. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. 
 
 Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and 
 swear by your beards that I am a knave. 
 
8 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 LiLcL 
 
 (LOt^i 
 
 Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. 
 
 Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were; but if 
 you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no 
 more was this knight, swearing by his honour, for he never 
 had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away before ever he 
 saw those pancakes or that mustard. 72 
 
 Cel. Prithee, who is’t that thou meanest? 
 
 Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves. 
 
 Cel. My father’s love is enough to honour him: enough! 
 speak no more of him; you’ll be whipped for taxation one 
 of these days. <LIUa*A 4 /J\Q-- 
 
 Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely 
 what wise men do foolishly. 
 
 Cel. By my troth , thou sayest true ; for since the little 
 wit that fools have was silenced, the little foolery that wise 
 men have makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le 
 
 Beau. 
 
 Ros. 
 
 Cel. 
 
 young. 
 
 Ros. 
 
 Cel. 
 
 83 
 
 With his mouth full of news. 
 Which he will put on us, as 
 
 __ pigeons feed their 
 
 Then shall we be news-crammed. 
 
 All the better; we shall be the more marketable. 
 
 Enter Le Beau. 
 
 Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: what’s the news? 
 
 Le Beau. Fair princess, ybu have lost much good sport. 
 Cel. Sport! of what colou r? 91 
 
 Le Beau. What colour, madam! how shall I answer you ? 
 Ros. As wit and fortune will. 
 
 Touch. Or as the destinies decree. 
 
 Cel. Well said: that was laid on with a trowel. 
 
 Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,— (UrtKAAQ&L}, 
 Ros. Thou losest thy old smell. 
 
 Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies: I would have told you 
 of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of. 
 

 ACT I. SCENE II. 9 
 
 Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. ioo 
 
 Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning; and, if it please 
 your ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is yet t L*. Apn* 
 do; and here, where you are, they are coming to per- 
 form it. 
 
 Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried. 
 
 Le Beau. There comes an old man and his three sons,— 
 
 Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. 
 
 Le Beau. Three prope r, young men, of excellent growth 
 and presence. 
 
 Ros. With bills on their necks, ‘ Be it known unto all 
 men by these presents.’ m 
 
 Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, 
 the duke’s wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him 
 and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life 
 in him: so he served the second, and so the third. Yonder 
 they lie; the poor old man, their father, making such pitiful 
 dole over them that all the beholders take his part with 
 weeping. 
 
 Ros. Alas! 
 
 Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies 
 have lost ? 121 
 
 Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. 
 
 Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day: it is the 
 first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for 
 ladies. * 
 
 Cel. Or I, I promise thee. J) (lAsCtASlJL^dsJLIL^ 
 
 Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken music . 
 in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking? ’ 
 
 Shall we see this wrestling, cousin ? 
 
 Le Beau. You must, if you stay here; for here is the 
 place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to 
 perform it. 
 
 1^2 
 
 Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay and 
 
 sec it. 
 
 j0~T?ujl 4. Jlpr^xctY' 
 
 C&r^<^PtHUU4«. 1 cjhJL* oJ^s=ct U*. t,n *~ 
 
10 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, 
 
 Charles, and Attendants. 
 
 Duke F. Come on: since the youth will not be entreate d, 
 his own peril on his forwardness. 
 
 Ros. Is yonder the man? 
 
 Le Beau. Even he, madam. 
 
 Cel. Alas, he is too young! yet he looks successfully . 
 Duke F. How now, daughter and cousin! are you crept 
 
 hither to see the wrestling? 
 
 T) At. m tt 1 1 o (to c r\ r\l na eo vrm crNrfi no. lpnvp 
 
 I 4 I 
 
 there is such odds in the man . In pity of the challenger’s 
 ' youth I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated. 
 Speak to him, ladies; see if you can move him. 
 
 Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. 
 
 Duke F. Do so: I’ll not be by. 
 
 Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princess calls for 
 you. 15° 
 
 Orl. I attend them with all respect and duty. 
 
 Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles the 
 wrestler ? 
 
 Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I 
 come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of 
 my youth. 
 
 Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your 
 years. You have seen cruel proof of this man’s strength: 
 if you saw yourself with your eyes or knew yourself with 
 your judgement, the fear of your adventure would counsel 
 you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your 
 own sake, to embrace your own safety and give over this 
 attempt. 163 
 
 Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore 
 be misprised: we will make it our suit to the duke that the 
 wrestling might not go forward. 
 
 Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard 
 
ACT I. SCENE tl. 
 
 Jl 
 
 thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so 
 
 fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes 
 
 and gentle wishes go with me to my trial: wherein if I be 
 
 foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious; if (UwlaJi 
 
 killed, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my&yfc«ut Ifl 
 
 friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me, the world mjrfhr** 
 
 no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fill ! 
 
 t ip a place , which may be better supplied when I have ma^le 
 
 it empty. JD crysJUtj IcCt & 4 + *• 
 
 Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were with 
 
 you. 
 
 Cel. 
 
 Ros. 
 
 Cel. 
 
 Cha. 
 
 Ready, si r; b ut his will hath in it a more modest 
 
 And mine, to eke out hers. 
 
 Fare you well: pray heaven I be deceived in you? 
 Your heart’s desires be with you! 181 
 
 Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous 
 to lie with his mother earth ? 
 
 Orl. 
 
 working . « 
 
 Duke F. ^You shall try but one fall. 
 
 Cha. No, I warrant your grace, you shall not entreat 
 him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from 
 a first. 
 
 Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should not have 
 mocked me before: but co ma your way s. tOTWL&*'~ l 9 l 
 Ros. Now Hercules be t hy speed , young man! vfrrtt 
 
 Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow 
 by the leg. [They wrestle. 
 
 Ros. O excellent young man! 
 
 Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who 
 should down. [Shout. Charles is thrown. 
 
 Duke F. No more, no more. 
 
 Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace: I am not yej _well 
 
 breathed. UxUL (rrtjCU.. 200 
 
 Duke F. How dost thou, Charlei? 
 
 Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. 
 
12 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Duke F. Bear him away. What is thy name, young 
 man ? 
 
 Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland 
 de Boys. 
 
 Duke F. I would thou hadst been son to some man else: 
 
 The world esteem’d thy father honourable, 
 
 But I did find him still mine enemy: 
 
 Thou shouldst have better pleased me with tbisdeed^21 o 
 Hadst thou descended from another house. 
 
 But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth: 
 
 I would thou hadst told me of another father. 
 
 \Exeunt Duke Frederick , train , and Le Beau. 
 
 Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this? 
 
 Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland’s son, 
 
 His youngest son; and would not change that callin g, ‘XiL^Ujfc- 
 To be adopted heir to Frederick. 
 
 Ros. My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul, 
 
 And all the world was of my father’s mind: , , 4 /J 9 L* 
 
 Had I before known this young man his son, ^ 220 
 I should have given him tears unto entreaties, ft'to 
 
 Ere he should thus have ventured. 
 
 Cel. Gentle cousin, 
 
 Let us go thank him and encourage him: 
 
 My father’s rough and envious disposition 
 
 Sticks me at hear t. Sir, you have well deserved: » 
 
 If you do keep your promises in love 
 
 But justly, as you have exceeded all promise, JFA/&UtX&si* 
 Your"*"m[stress shall be happy. 
 
 Ros. Gentleman, 
 
 [Giving' him a chain from her neck. 
 AVear this for me, one out of su its with fortune, 
 fT hat could give more , but thaFhe?lHnH lacks means. 2 3o , 
 
 I Shall we go, coz? 
 
 Cel. Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman. " 
 
 Orl. Can I not say, I thank you ? My better parts 
 Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up 
 Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. 
 
ACT I. SCENE II. 13 
 
 • 1 
 
 Ros. He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes; 
 
 I’ll ask him what he would. Did you call, sir? 
 
 Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown 
 More than your enemies. 
 
 Cel. Will you go, coz ? 
 
 Ros. Have with you. Fare you well. 
 
 [.Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. Q 
 
 Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue ? 
 
 I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. 241 
 
 O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown! 
 
 Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. 
 
 Re-enter Le Beau. 
 
 Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you 
 To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved 
 High commendation, true applause and love, 
 
 Yet such is now the duke’s condition^j^^A^y■ ^^-1*01 
 That he misconstrues all thaFycnTEave done. ‘(j ’ c) 
 
 The duke is humorous : what he is indeed, 
 
 More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. j 250 
 Orl. I thank you, sir: and, pray you, tell me this; 
 
 Which of the two was daughter of the duke 
 That here was at the wrestling? 
 
 Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners; 
 
 But yet indeed the lesser is his daughter: 
 
 The other is daughter to the banish’d duke, 
 
 And here detain’d by her usurping uncle, 
 
 To keep his daughter company; whose loves 
 Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. 
 
 But I can tell you that of late this duke 260 
 
 Hath ta’en displeasure ’gainst his gentle niece, 
 
 Grounded upon no other argumen t 
 But that the people praise her for her virtues 
 And pity her for her good father’s sake; 
 
 And, on my life, his malice ’gainst the lady # 
 
 Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well: 
 
 Hereafter, i n a better wqe IB than this, tU rt. 
 
 I shall desire more love and knowledge of you, . 
 

 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Orl. I rest much bounden itTydti: fare you well. 
 
 [Exit Le Beau. 
 
 'hm> mu£t f I from the smokeQhto the smother : 270 
 
 From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother: 
 
 But heavenly Rosalind! [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. A room in the palace. 
 
 Enter CELIA and ROSALIND. 
 
 Cel. Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! 
 not a word? 
 
 Ros. Not one to throw at a dog. 
 
 Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon 
 curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame me with 
 reasons. 
 
 
 Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when the 
 one should be lamed with reasons and the other mad with¬ 
 out any. 
 
 Cel. But is all this for your fatl^r ? 
 Ros. No, some of it is for my 
 
 
 
 of briers is this w orking-day world N 
 
 Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in^-/P' 
 holiday foolery: if we walk not in the trodden paths, our^^ /fM f‘ 
 very petticoats will catch them. 
 
 Ros. I could shake them off my coat : these burs are in 
 my heart. <K & 
 
 Cel. Hem them away. U 
 
 Ros. I would try, if I could cry hem and have him. 
 
 Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. 20 
 
 Ros. Q, they take the part of a better wrestler than 
 myself! 
 
 Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in 
 despite of a fall. But, turning these jests out of service, let 
 us talk in good earnest: is it possible, on such a sudde n. 
 
 
ACT I. SCENE III. 
 
 15 
 
 you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland’s 
 youngest son? 
 
 Ros. The duke my father loved his father dearly. 28 
 
 Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his 
 son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, 
 for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not 
 Orlando. lAtkJU^ 
 
 Ros. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. 
 
 Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well rtUtAbJi, 
 
 Ros. Let me love him for that, and do you love him 
 because I do. Look, here comes the duke. 
 
 Cel. With his eyes full of anger. 
 
 Enter Duke Frederick, with Lords. 
 
 Duke F. Mistress, despatch you with your safest haste 
 And get you from our court. 
 
 Ros. Me, uncle? 
 
 Duke F. You, cousin: 
 
 Within these ten days if that thou be’st found 40 
 
 So near our public court as twenty miles, 
 
 Thou diest for it. 
 
 Ros. I do beseech your grace, 
 
 Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me: . 
 
 If with myself I hold intelligence J?/ J) Vka-j 
 
 Or have acquaintance with mine owffi* desires, 
 
 If that I do not dream or be not frantic,— 
 
 As I do trust I am not—then, dear uncle, 
 
 Never so much as in a thought unborn 
 Did I offend your highness. 
 
 Duke F. Thus do all traitors: 
 
 If their purgatio n did consist in words, 
 
 They are as innocent as grace itself: / 
 
 Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not. 
 
 Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor: 
 
 Tell me whereon the likelih ood depends 
 
 Duke F. Thou art thy father’s daughter 
 
 me a traitor: 
 er; there’s enougn 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 1 6 
 
 Ros. So was I when your highness took his dukedom; 
 So was I when your highness banish’d him: 
 
 Treason is not inherited, my lord; 
 
 Or, if we did derive it from our friends, 
 
 What’s that to me ? my father was no traitor: 60 
 
 Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much 
 ^_To think my poverty is treacherous. 
 
 Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. 
 
 Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay’d her for your sake, 
 
 Else had she with her father ranged along. 
 
 Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay; 
 
 It was your pleasure and your own remorse: UxJLCcU 
 
 I was too young thatJijne_to value her; 
 
 But now I know her: if she be a traitor, f 
 
 Why so am I; we still have slept together, 
 
 Rose at an instant, learn’d, play’d, ea^ together, 70 
 
 And wheresoe’er we went, like J uno’s , swans, UG ^jJX^- 
 Still we went coupled and inseparable. 
 
 Duke F. She is too subtle for thee ; and her smoothness, 
 
 Her very silence and her patience 
 Speak to the people, and they pity her. 
 
 Thou art a fool: she robs thee of thy name; 
 
 And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous 
 fTr**' When she is gone. Then open not thy lips: 
 
 Firm and irrevocable is my doom 80 
 
 Which I have passed upon her; she is banish’d. 
 
 Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege: 
 
 I cannot live out of her company. 
 
 Duke F. You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself: 
 If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, 
 
 And in the greatness of my word, you die. 
 
 [Exeunt Duke Frederick and Lords. 
 
 Cel. O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thpu go? 
 Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. 
 
 I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am, 
 
 Ros. I have more cause. 
 
 / 
 
ACT I. SCENE III. 
 
 1 7 
 
 Cel. Thou hast not, cousin; 
 
 Prithee, be cheerful: know’st thou not, the duke 
 Hath banish’d me, his daughter ? 
 
 R° s ' That he hath not. 
 
 Cel. No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love 
 Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one: 
 
 Shall we be sunder’d? shall we part, sweet girl? 
 
 No: let my father seek another heir. 
 
 Therefore devise with me how we may fly, 
 
 Whither to go and what to bear with us; £ 4 ZJOzjt~j jJjolJQjl*- 
 And do not seek to take your chan ge upon you, SiAJtjL* tsi 
 
 To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out; 100 A 
 
 For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, 
 
 Say what thou canst, I’ll go along with thee. 
 
 Ros. Why, whither shall we go? 
 
 Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. 
 
 Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us, 
 
 Maids as we are, to travel forth so far! f 
 
 Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. , 
 
 Cel. I’ll put myself in poor and meatT attire 
 And with a kind of umber sm[cotfTny face; (V 
 
 The like do you: so shall we pass along 
 
 And never stir assailants. 
 
 Ros. 
 
 Were it not better, 
 
 Because that I am more than common tall, . 
 
 That I did suit me all point s like a man 
 A gallant c urtle-ax e upon my thigh, QanULLa^J^. 
 A boar-spear in my hand; and—in my heart 
 
 Sac&f- 
 
 Ua.4JL3l~ 
 
 Lie there what hidden woman’s fear there will—• 
 
 We’ll have a svyaghing and a martial outside, 
 
 As many other mannish cowards have ^ - 60 
 
 That do outface it with their semblances. 
 
 What shall I call thee when thou art a man ? 
 
 Ros. 1 11 have no worse a name than Jove’s own page; 
 And therefore look you call me Ganymede. 
 
 But what will you be call’d? 
 
 C 
 
i8 
 
 yl.S’ YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state; 
 
 No longer Celia, but Aliena. . 
 
 Ros. But, cousin, what if we assay’d to steal 
 The clownish fool out of your father’s court? 
 
 Would he not be a comfort to our travel? 
 
 Cel. He’ll go along o’er the wide world with me; 
 
 Leave me alone to woo him. Let’s away, I 3° 
 
 And get our jewels and our wealth together, 
 
 Devise the fittest time and safest way 
 
 To hide us from pursuit that will be made 
 
 After my flight. Now go we in c ontent 
 
 To liberty and not to banishment. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE Io The Forest ef Arden. 
 
 Enter DUKE senior, Amiens, and two or three Lords, 
 
 like foresters. 
 
 Duke S. Now, my co-mates and brothers in ^xile, 
 
 Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 
 Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods 
 More free from peril than the envious court? 
 
 Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, 
 
 The seasons’ difference, as^the icy fang£^ LqY LiA 
 And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind, (] 
 
 Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, 
 
 Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say 
 ‘This is no flattery: these are counsellors 
 That feelingly persuade me what I am.’ 
 
 Sweet are the uses of adversity, rj- 
 
 Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, QU • 
 
 Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; 
 
 And this our life exempt from public haunt 
 Finds tongues in trees, 
 
 Sermons in stones and 
 I would not change it. 
 
ACT II. SCENE I. 
 
 *9 
 
 sl>ni. Happy is your grace, 
 
 That can translate the stubbornness of fortune 
 Into so quiet and so sweet a style. 
 
 Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison ? 
 And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, fug Artso 
 Being native burgher s^of tjiis desert city, ' 
 
 Should in their own confines wi th forke d heads. 
 
 Have their round haunches gored. 
 
 20 
 
 ' 30 / 
 
 First Lord. Indeed, my Lord, 
 
 The melancholy Jaques grieves at that, 
 
 And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp 
 Than doth your brother that hath banish’d you. 
 
 To-day my lord of Amiens and myself 
 Did steal behind him a£_he lay along 
 Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out 
 Upon the brook that brawls along this wood: 
 
 To the which place a poor sequester’d stag, 
 
 That from the hunter’s aim had ta’en a hurt, 
 
 Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord, 
 
 The wretched aninial heaved forth such groans 
 That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat 
 Almost to bursting, and the big round tears 
 Coursed one another down his innocent nose 
 In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool, 
 
 Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, 
 
 Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, 
 
 Augmenting it with tears. 
 
 Duke S. But what said Jaques ? 
 
 Did he not moralize this spectacle ? 
 
 First Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. . 
 
 First, for his weeping into the needless stream 5\6 
 
 ‘Poor deer,’ quoth he, ‘thou makest a testament]-/^ J ^ ^ yl 
 
 As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more ! . 
 
 To that which had too much’: then, being there alone, 
 
 
 
 I'll 
 
 19 
 
 {tAjLxS 
 
 4C7 _ _ CLA^aOjr 
 
 yiK/jU&th. 
 
 The flux of company ’: anon a careless herd, 
 
 c 
 
20 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Full of the pasture, jumps along by him 
 
 And never stays to greet him; ‘ Ay,’ quoth Jaques, 
 
 ‘Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; 
 
 ’Tis just the fashion : wherefore do you look 
 Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there ?’ 
 
 Thus most i nvectiv ely he pierceth through 
 The body of the country, city, court, ^ 
 
 Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we 
 Are mere usurpers, tyrants and what’s worse, 
 
 To fright the animals and to kill them up 
 In their assign’d and native dwelling-place. 
 
 60 
 
 Duke S. And did you leave him in this contemplation? 
 
 Sec. Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting 
 Upon the sobbing deer. 
 
 Duke S. Show me the place: 
 
 I love to cope him in these sullen fits, 4 Lt\. 
 
 AHcdXfiliUJU 
 
 you to him straight. 
 
 [E, 
 
 SCENE II. A room in the palace. 
 
 Enter Duke Frederick, with Lords. 
 
 Duke F. Gan it be possible that no man saw them? 
 
 It cannot be: some villains of my court 
 Are of consent and sufferance in this. 
 
 First Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. 
 
 The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, 
 
 Saw her a-bed, and in the morning early 
 
 They found the bed untreasured of their mistress. 
 
 SeL Lord - lord, the f ovnish c lown, at whom so oft 
 I Tour grace was wbnt to laugh, is also missing. 
 
 Hisperia, the princess’ gentlewoman, i ( 
 
 Confesses that she secretly o’erheard 
 
 Your daughter and her cousin much commend 
 
 The parts and graces of the wrestler 
 
 That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles; 
 
ACT II. SCENE III. 
 
 21 
 
 And she believes, wherever they are gone, 
 
 That youth is surely in their company. 
 
 Duke F. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither j 
 If he be absent, bring his brother to me; , 
 
 I’ll make him find him: do this sudde nly, J^fZSLJLfSLu 
 And let not search and inquisitio n quail J y d 0 a, * jfo, 
 
 To bring a gai n these foolish run^^ys. 
 
 Scene III. Before Oliver’s house. 
 
 Enter ORLANDO and Adam, meeting. 
 
 Orl. Who’s there ? 
 
 Adam. What, my young master? O my gentle master! 
 O my sweet master! O you memory 
 
 if 
 
 U 
 
 
 V il l 1 
 
 Of old Sir Rowland! why, what make you here ? 
 
 Why are you virtuous ? why do people love you ? 
 
 And wherefore are you gentle, strong and valiant? ^ , 
 
 'hy would you be so fond t o overcome 4*6 d 4 Co 
 
 * bonny priser of the h umorou s duke ? 
 
 ' 
 
 
 ! 11 
 
 fOU. 
 
 IO 
 
 > ijULMAA* JdiuxU. 
 MuULa. ptAfta 
 Ott&0*-<L+ OS'VU 
 
 Your praise is come too swiftly home before 
 now you not, master, to some kind of men 
 Their graces serve them but as enemies? 
 
 No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master, 
 
 Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. 
 
 O, what a world is this, when what is comely^ * • J - 
 
 Envenoms him that bears it! j 
 
 Orl. Why, what’s the matter? 
 
 Adam. 
 
 Come not within these doors; 
 
 The enemy of all your graces lives: 
 
 Your brother—no, no brother; yet the son— 
 
 Yet not the son, I will not call him son 
 Of him I was about to call his father— 
 
 Hath heard your praises, and this night he means 
 To burn the lodging where you use to lie 
 And you within it: if he fail of that, 
 
 He will have other means to cut you off, 
 
 ; 
 
 ; 
 
 
 
 
 20 
 
 
22 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT . 
 
 I overheard him and his pr actices . 
 r LC^X^£^,ij^'This is no place; this house is but a butchery: 
 
 "Abhor it, fearlt, do not enter it. kj&Cut 4 _ 
 
 Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? 
 
 
 
 
 
 Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. 30 
 Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food ? 
 
 Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce 
 A thievish living on the common road ? 
 
 This I must do, or know not what to do: 
 Yet this I will no£ do, do how I can; 
 
 I rather will subject me to the malice 
 Of a diverted blood and bloody brother. 
 
 
 Adam. Bu*tfMb v ribl 'sb'T' T have fi($e "hundrai crowns, (J . 
 The thrifty hire I saved under your father, 
 
 Which I did store to be my foster-nurse 40 
 
 When service should in my old limbs lie lame 
 
 50 
 
 And unregarded age in corners thrown: 
 
 Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed, 
 
 Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, 
 
 Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold; 
 
 All this I give you. Let me be your servant: 
 Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty; 
 
 For in my youth I never did apply 
 Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood. 
 
 Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo 
 The means of weakness and debility; 
 
 Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, 
 
 Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you; 
 
 I’ll do the service of a younger man 
 In all your business and necessities. 
 
 Orl. O good old man^ how r well in thee appears 
 The constant service of me antique world, 
 
 When service sweat for duty, not for meed I 
 Thou art not for the fashion of these times, 
 Where none will sweat but for promotion, 
 
 And having that, do choke their service up 
 Fven with the having: it is not so with thee. 
 
 60 
 
ACT II. SCENE IV. 
 
 3 S 
 
 But, poor old man, thou prunest a rotten tree, 
 
 That cannot so much as a blossom yield 
 
 In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry. A jjtuAl* 
 
 BuTcome^thy ways; we’ll go along together, Q 
 
 And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, 
 
 We’ll light upon some settled low content . 
 
 Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee, 
 
 To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. 70 
 
 From seventeen years till now almost fourscore 
 Here lived I, but now live here no more. 
 
 At seventeen years many their fortunes seek; ~ a 
 
 But at fourscore it is too late a week :,OffyVJLAAnlLjdk L 4 E& xAlCl- , 
 
 Yet fortune cannot recompense me better 
 
 Than to die well and not my master’s debtor. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. The Forest of Arden. 
 
 Enter Rosalind for Ganymede, Celia for Aliena, 
 and Touchstone. 
 
 Ros. O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits! 
 
 Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not 
 weary. . 
 
 Ros. I^couk Lfind in mv heart to d isgrace my man’s apparel 
 and to cry like a woman; but I must comfort the weaker 
 vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous 
 to petticoat: therefore courage, good Ahena! 
 
 Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further. 
 
 Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear 
 you; yet I should bear no cross if I did bear you, for I think 
 you have no money in your purse. 11 
 
 Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden. 
 
 Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I; when 
 I was at home, I was in a better place: but travellers must 
 be content. 
 
 Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone. 
 
24 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT . 
 
 Enter CORIN and SlLVIUS. 
 
 Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in 
 solemn talk. 
 
 Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. 
 
 Si/. O Corin, that thou knew’st how I do love her! 20 
 
 Cor. I partly guess; for L have loved ere now. 
 
 Si/. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess, 
 
 Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover 
 As ever sigh’d upon a midnight pillow: 
 
 But if thy love were ever like to mine—■ 
 
 As sure I think did never man love so— 
 
 How many actions most ridiculous 
 Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy ? 
 
 Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. 
 
 30 
 
 Si/. O, thou didst then ne’er love so heartily! 
 
 If thou remember’st not the slightest folly 
 That ever love did make thee run into, 
 
 Thou hast not loved: 
 
 Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, 
 
 Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress’ praise, 
 
 Thou hast not loved : 
 
 Or if thou hast not broke from company 
 Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, 
 
 Thou hast not loved. 
 
 .0 Phebe Phebe, Phebe! ^ 
 
 Kos. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy w< 5 uml, 41 
 I have by hard adventure found mine own. 
 
 Touch. And I mine. I remember, when I was in love I 
 broke my sword upon a stone and bid him take that for 
 f coming a-night to Jane Smile; and I remember the kissing 
 of her batlet and the cow’s dugs that her pretty chop t hands 
 had milked; and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead 
 of her/from w hQ^J^oj?k Tw^^ds and, giving her them 
 said with weeping tears^vvear these for my sake.’ 
 
 ( 
 
 W(/that are true lovers run into strange capers: but as all 
 is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly. 51 
 
 

 ACT II. SCENE IV. 2 5 
 
 Ros. Thou speake^ v^r ^tjfc^^fiyart jvare of^" 
 
 Touch. Nay, I shall ne’er be ware of mine own wit till 
 I break my shins against it. 
 
 Ros. Jove, Jove ! this shepherd’s passion - 
 
 Is much upo n my fashion. oJrju 
 Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale with me. 
 
 Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond man 
 If he for gold will give us any food: 
 
 I faint almost to death. 
 
 Touch. Holla, you clown! 60 
 
 Ros. Peace, fool: he’s not thy kinsman. 
 
 Cor. Who calls ? 
 
 Touch. Your betters, sir. 
 
 Cor. Else are they very wretched. 
 
 Ros, Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend. 
 
 Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. 
 
 Ros. I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold 
 
 Can in this desert place buy entertainment, 
 
 Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed: 
 
 Here’s a young maid with travel much oppress’d 
 
 And faints for succoiir. Lfr COVUAjf ^KJUiJO . 
 
 Cor. cTair sir, I pity lief 
 
 And wish, for her sake more than for mine own, 70 
 
 My fortunes were more able to relieve her; 
 
 But I am shepherd to another man 
 
 And do not shear the fleeces that I graze: 
 
 ■ • 
 
 My master is of churlish disposition^. 
 
 And little reck s .to find the way to heaven 
 
 By doing deeds of hospitality: 0 r , 
 
 Besides, his cote , his flocks and bounds of feed CL 
 Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now, 
 
 By reason of his absence, there is nothing 
 That you will feed on; but what is, come see, 3 o 
 
 And in my voi ce most. welcome _shall you be. P * 
 
 ./ „ Rosf^Sti ^Is h® that^^lf^buy^is iTock and pasture? 
 
 
 ~t£t_ 
 
26 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Cor. That young swain that you saw here but erewhi le, 
 That little cares for buying anything. 
 
 Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, 4 
 
 Buy thou the cot 
 
 And thou shalt 
 
 d the flock, 
 
 wit of us. 
 
 cotU 
 
 90 
 
 Cel. And we will mend thy wages. I like this place, 
 And willingly could waste my time in it. 
 
 Cor. Assuredly the thing is to be sold: 
 
 Go with me: if you like upon report 
 The soil, the profit and this kind of life, 
 
 I will your very faithful feeder be AJVtIh€^cf 4 ~~ 
 
 And buy it with your gold right suddenly. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. The forest. 
 
 Enter AMIENS, Jaques, and others. 
 
 Song. 
 
 Ami. 
 
 Under the greenwood tree 
 Who loves to lie with me, 
 
 And turn his merry note 
 Unto the sweet bird’s throat, 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither 
 Here shall he see 
 No enemy 
 
 But winter and rough weather. 
 
 Jaq. More, more, I prithee, more. 9 
 
 Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. 
 Jaq. I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck 
 melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. More, I 
 
 prithee, more. , HuumJLj . , 
 
 Ami. My voice is ragged':! know 1 cannot please you. 
 
 Jaq. I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you 
 to sing. Come, more; another stanzo: call you ’em stanzos ? 
 Ami, What you will, Monsieur Jaques. 
 
 
ACT IT. SCENE V . 
 
 7 
 
 Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me 
 nothing. Will you sing? 
 
 Ami. More at your request than to please myself. 20 
 
 Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I’ll thank you; 
 but that they call compliment is like the encounter of two * 
 dog-apes, and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks \&CLvOOxa^x^ 
 have given him a penny and he renders me the beggarly 
 thanks. Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your 
 tongues. 
 
 Ami. Well, I’ll end the song: Sirs, cover thuVvhile; the /! 
 duke wUldrink under .this tree. He hath been 'all this day v 
 to loo 
 
 Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is 
 too disputable for my company: I think of as many matters 
 as he, bhCTgive heaven thanks and make no boast of them. 
 
 Come, warbleT-x^ , 
 
 Who doth ambition shun [All together here . 
 
 And loves to li ve i’ the su n, ^ 
 
 S /n kln f the / 00 l h Vft . 0 AWaM*** 
 
 And pleased with what he gets, 
 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither f 
 Here shall he see 
 
 No enemy 4° 
 
 But winter and rough weather. 
 
 Jaq. I’il give you a verse to this note that I made yester¬ 
 day in despite of my invention. 
 
 Ami. And I’ll sing it. 
 
 Jaq. Thus it goes:— 
 
 If it do come to pass 
 That any man turn ass, 
 
 Leaving his wealth and ease, 
 
 A stubborn will to please, 
 
 Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame: 50 
 
 Here shall he see 
 Gross fools as he, 
 
 An if he will come to me. 
 
 I 
 
 
28 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Ami. What’s that ‘ducdame’? 
 
 Jaq. ’Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. 
 I’ll go sleep, if I can: if I cannot, I’ll rail against all the 
 fi stLorn of M 1 
 
 n 
 
 slmi. And I’ll go seek the duke: his banquet is pre- 
 pared ' 
 
 (£jLs€a1+<jQ~<*. 
 
 Scene VI. TUe forest. 
 
 \ 
 
 
 j^USTLvet 
 
 Enter ORLANDO and ADAM. 
 
 
 Adam. Dear master, I can go no further: O, I die for, 
 food! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Fare- 
 
 
 well, kind master. 
 
 Orl. Why, how now^Vdam! noy^reater heart in thee ? 
 Live a little; comfo rt/a Jijttle; cheer thyself a little. If 
 this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, I will either be 
 (tlLAAALdf food for it or bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit, is 
 
 death than thy powers. For my sake be comfortable; 
 hold death awhile at .the arm’s end: I will here be with 
 thee bring thee not something to eat f 
 
 : ( 
 
 I will give thee leave to die: but if thou diest before I come, 
 ^j^^^j^/thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said! thou lookest 
 Y*jLnOnLQj£j ' cheerl y > an d I’ll be with thee quickly. Yet thou liest in the 
 bleak air: come, I will bear thee to some shelter; and thou 
 shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in 
 this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! [ Exeunt. 
 
 
 
 Scene VII. The forest. 
 
 A table set out. Enter Duke senior, Amiens, and Lords 
 
 like outlaws. 
 
 
 
 Duke S. I think he be transform’d into a beast: 
 
 For I can no where find him like a man. 
 
 First Lord. My lord, he is but Qj/en My gone hence: 
 Here was he merry, hearing of a song. 
 
ACT II. SCENE VII, 
 
 29 
 
 10 
 
 They have the gift to know it: and in his brain, 
 Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit f 
 
 Or' 
 
 * After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm’d. ^ _ 
 
 c jo* \.<£ka. ^ dbzxy 
 
 -#~^u <Lz^Cj&-u^ a 
 
 Duke S. If he, rampatff oFiar s, gjott musical^ 
 
 We shall have shortly discord in the spheres . IhQ^ McdL iMJluiJ &U 
 Go seek him: tell him I would speak with him.-q£je 7 “ 
 
 Enter Jaques. 
 
 First Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach. 
 
 Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this, 
 
 That your poor friends must woo your company? 
 
 What, you look merrily! 
 
 Jaq. A fool, a fool! I met a fool i’ the forest, 
 
 A motley fool; a miserable world! 
 
 As I do live by food, I met a fool; 
 
 Who laid him down and bask’d him in the sun, 
 
 And rail’d on Lady Fortune in good terms, 
 
 In good set terms and yet a motley fool. 
 
 ‘Good morrow, fool/ quoth I. ‘No, sir,’ quoth he, 
 
 ‘Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune’: 
 
 And then he drew a dial from his jjoke , ' dUjX.JL%° 
 
 And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, p^cC.p&&Lc£~ 
 Says very wisely, ‘ It is ten o’clock: 
 
 Thus we may see,’ quoth he, ‘ how the world wags : )?CiKr€tf 
 
 ’Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, V 
 
 And after one hour more ’twill be eleven; , 
 
 And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, 
 
 And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; 
 
 And thereby hangs a tale.’ When I did hear # 
 
 The motley fool thus moral on the time, 
 
 My lungs began'to crow jike chanticlee r, (IcUulOL f 
 
 That fools should be so deep-contemplative, (L^J^ * 7 
 
 And I did laugh sans intermission 
 An hour by his dial. O noble fool! 
 
 A worthy fool! Motley’s the only w ear.TAfl, AhJLtJ 
 
 Duke S. What fool is this ? ^TX^J^KAjO-^ . 
 
 Jaq. O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier, 
 
 And says, if ladies be but young and fair, 
 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Hi 
 
 J ! 
 
 I \ 
 
 J 
 
 1 1 v 
 
 ! 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 i I 
 
 fll’ 
 
 I 
 
 f !1| 
 
 1 it 
 
 I 
 
 ^TIUaTVC 
 
 H kauJi 
 
 ) 
 
 I 
 
 With observation, the which he vents 
 I n mangled forms. O that I were a fool! 
 
 I am ambitious for a motley coat. 
 
 Duke S . Thou shalt have one. 
 
 Jug. It is my only suit; 
 
 Provided that you weed your better judgements 
 
 Of all opinion that grows rank in them 
 
 That 1 am wise. I must have liberty * 
 
 Withal, as large a charter as the wind, -o (t&ua (spCeniL ur 
 To blow on whom I please; for so fools have; 
 
 And they that are most galled with my folly. 
 
 50 
 
 They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so ? 
 
 The ‘why’ is plain as way to parish church: 
 
 He that a fool doth very wisely hit 
 
 Doth very foolishly, although he smart, * * 
 
 [Not to] seem senseless of the bob : if not, Cu GL. 1 fU£*l 
 
 The wise man’s folly is anafomizedL * ' 
 
 Even by the squandering ^Tarrce§^r the fool. 
 
 Invest me in my motleyT give me leave 
 To speak my mind, and I will through and 
 Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, 
 
 If they will patiently receive my medicine. 
 
 Duke S. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do. 
 
 Jug. What, fcm^a^c mlm ef^ w^Ho but good? 
 
 Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin: 
 
 For thou thyself hast been a libertine, . 
 s sensual as the br utish sting itself; &JjJkUJ@ 4 JL ’JLj 2 - JAttfai/X 
 
 nd all the embossed sores and headed twils, ^ ^JLtck/xje^- 
 ^That thou with license of free foot hast caught, 
 
 Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. 
 
 Jag. Why, who cries out on pride, 70 
 
 That can therein ta^a ny private party ? 
 
 Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea^Sy^l 
 Till that the wearer’s very means do ebb? 
 
 What woman in the city do I name, 
 
 When that I say the city-woman bears 
 
 ers Q) 
 
 The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders, 
 
ACT II. SCENE VII. 
 
 3 1 
 
 Orl. 
 
 Jaq. 
 
 Orl. 
 
 Jaq. 
 
 Who can come in and say that I mean her, 
 
 When such a one as she such is hgr neighbour? 
 
 Or what is he of basest f unct ion 
 That says his bravery is not of my cost, 
 
 Thinking that Pmean him, but therein sipts 
 His folly to the mettle of my speech? 
 
 There then; how then ? what then ? Let me see wherein 
 My tongue hath wrong’d him: if it do him right, 
 
 Then he hath wrong’d himself; if he bejree, 
 
 Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies, 
 
 Unclaim’d of any man. But who comes here ? 
 
 Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn. 
 
 Forbear, and eat no more. 
 
 Why, I have eat^ none yet. 
 
 Nor shalt not, till necessity be served. 
 
 Of what kind should this cock come of? 9 ° 
 
 Duke S. Art thou thus bolden’d, man, by thy distress, 
 
 Or else a rude despiser of good manners, * . 
 
 That in civilit y thou seem’st so empty ? , <Z\ CL 
 
 Orl. You touch’d my vein at first: the thorny point 1 
 
 Of bare distress hath ta’en iTdm^oe^^lmshow . KA-iaJ. - 
 
 Of smooth civility: yet am I inlandbre d ~^* m&uXi 4^^ Or 
 
 And know some nurt ure. But forbeStv^-^Y ‘jDtT ♦ 
 He dies that toucheTlny~of- 4 his_fru]U^ 6 
 Till I and my affairs are 
 
 Jaq. An you will not be answered with^eason, I must 
 
 die. 101 
 
 Duke S. What would you have? Your gentleness shall 
 force 
 
 More than your force move us to gentleness. 
 
 Orl. I almost die for food; and let me have it. 
 
 Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. 
 
 Orl. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you: 
 
 1 thought that all things had been savage here; 
 
 And therefore put I on the countenance 
 Of stern comma n dme nt. But whate’er you are 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 3 ' 
 
 That in this desert inaccessible, no 
 
 Under the shade of melancholy boughs, 
 
 Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; 
 
 If ever you have look’d on better days, 
 
 If ever been where bells have knoll’d to church, 
 
 If ever sat at any good man’s feast, 
 
 If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear 
 And know what ’tis to pity and be pitied; 
 
 Let gentleness my strong enforcemen t be: 
 
 In the which hope I blush, and hide my s 
 
 Duke S. True is it that we have seen better days, 120 
 And have with holy bell been knoll’d to church 
 And sat at good men’s feasts and wiped our eyes 
 Of drops that sacred pity hath engender’d: 
 
 And therefore sit you down in gentleness 
 
 And take upon command what help we haved/ Ijbhsv if/li J/ir** 
 That to your wanting may be minister’d. ' 
 
 Orl. Then but forbear your food a little while, 
 
 Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn 
 And give it food. There is an old poor man, 
 
 Who after me hath many a weary step 130 
 
 Limp’d in pure love: till he be first sufficed, 
 
 Oppress’d with tw o weak evils, age and hunger, 
 
 I will not touch a bit. tWOVOr^ r 
 
 Duke S. Go find him out, 
 
 And we will nothing waste till you return, 0 
 
 Orl. I thank ye; and be blest for your good comfort! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Duke S. Thou seest \ve are not all alone unhappy: 
 
 This wide and universal theatre 
 
 Presents more woeful pageants than the scene 
 
 Wherein we play in. 
 
 Jaq- All the world’s a stage, 
 
 And all the men and women merely players: 140 
 
 They have their exits and their entrances; 
 
 And one man in his time plays many parts, 
 
 His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, 
 
J L.V , . ACT II. SCENE VII. 
 
 <b- 
 
 Mewling and puking m the nurse’s arms. 
 
 And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel 
 And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
 Unwillingly to school. And then they lover, '<U a 
 Sig hing li ke furnace, with a woefulballad 
 
 33 
 
 
 ■rt 
 
 
 ier 
 
 
 "Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a 
 Full of strange oath* and Jp earded like the pard , iy> 
 
 Jealous in honour, j^d quick in quarrel, (&/ 
 
 Seeking the bubble reputation 
 
 Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice, / 
 
 In fair round belly with good capon lined, 
 
 With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, 
 
 Full of wise saws and modern instances ; 
 
 And so he plays his part. The sixth ag^ -J 1 Ca 
 
 Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon, < 
 
 With spectacles on nose and''pouch on < 
 
 His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide 
 For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, 
 
 Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
 And whistles in his s ound. Last scene of all, 
 
 That ends this strange eventful history, 
 
 Is second childishness and mere oblivion, 
 
 Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. 
 
 Re-enter Orlando, with Adam. 
 
 
 * Ml 
 
 i II 
 
 > 
 
 j 
 
 160 
 
 
 Duke S. Welcome. 
 And let him feed. 
 
 Set down your venerable burden, 
 
 Orl. I thank you most for him. 
 
 Adam. So had you need: 
 
 I scarce can speak to thank .you for myself. 170 
 
 Duke S. Welcome; fall to: I will not trouble you 
 As yet, to question you about your fortunes. 
 
 Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing. 
 
 Song. 
 
 Ami. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, 
 
 Thou art not so unkin d 
 As man’s ingratitude; 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Thy tooth is not so keen, 
 
 Because thou art not seen, 
 
 Although thy breath be rude. 
 
 Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly: 180 
 Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: 
 
 Then, heigh-ho, the holly! 
 
 This life is most jolly. 
 
 Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 
 That dost not bite so nigh 
 
 As benefits forgot: 
 
 Though thou the waters warp, 
 
 Thy sting is not so sharp 
 As friend remember’d not. 
 Heigh-ho! sing, &c. 
 
 190 
 
 Duke S. If that you were the good Sir Rowland’s son, 
 As you have whisper’d faithfully you were, 
 
 And as mine eye doth his effigies witness 
 
 Most truly limn’d and living irTyour face, q(AAL lUlA^'i^Da 
 Be truly welcome hither: I am the duke f~ 
 
 That loved your father: the residue of your fortune, 
 
 Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man, 
 
 Thou art right welcome as thy master is. 
 
 Support him by the arm. Give me your hand, 
 
 And let me all your fortunes understand. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. A room in the palace. 
 
 Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, and Oliver. 
 
 Duke F. Not see him since ? Sir, sir, that ran not bp • 
 But were I not t he better pa rt made mercy, 
 
 T 1 11 ‘ 1 1 ' argument 
 
 But look to it: 
 
ACT Ill . SCENE II. 
 
 35 
 
 Find out thy brother, wheresoe’er he is; 
 
 Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living 
 Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more 
 To seek a living in our territory. 
 
 Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine 
 Worth seizure do we seize into our hands, 10 
 
 Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother’s mouth 
 Cf what we think against thee. 
 
 Oli. O that your highness knew my heart in this! 
 
 I never loved my brother in my life. 
 
 Duke F. More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors; 
 
 And let my officers of such a nature brfjWL dt 
 
 Make an extent upon his house and lands: 
 
 Do this ex pediently and turn him going. fD§nn/§ '/SExeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The forest. 
 
 l ! 
 
 Enter Orlando, with a paper. 
 
 Or/. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love 
 And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey 
 
 With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, 
 
 Thy huntress’ name that my full life doth sway. 
 
 O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books 
 
 And in their barks my thoughts I ’ll charact er; 
 
 That every eye which in this forest looks 
 Shall see thy virtue witness’d every where. 
 
 Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree 
 The fair, the chaste and unexpressive she. 
 
 Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE 
 
 Cor. And how like you this shepherd’s life, Master Touch¬ 
 stone ? 
 
 Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good/ - - 
 
 life; but in respect that it is a shepherd’s life, it is naught ^ ) M 
 In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in r 
 spect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now, in respect 
 
 D 2 
 
 [Exit. 
 
3 6 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is 
 not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look 
 you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty 
 in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy 
 
 in thee, shepherd? 
 
 21 
 
 Cor. No more but that I know the more one sickens 
 the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, 
 means and content is without three good friends; that the 
 property of rain is to wet and fire to burn; that good pas¬ 
 ture makes fat sheep, and that a great cause of the night 
 is lack of the sun; that he that hath learned no wit by nature 
 nor art may complain of go od breeding or comes of a very 
 dull kindred. ‘~bC<s^ OASQjJUXl#, 
 
 Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in 
 court, shepherd ? 3 1 
 
 Cor. No, truly. 
 
 Touch. Then thou art damned. 
 
 Cor. Nay, I hope. 
 
 Touch. Truly, thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg all 
 on one side. 
 
 Cor. For not being at court? Your reason. 
 
 Touch. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never sawest 
 good manners; if thou never sawest good manners, then thy 
 manners must be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is 
 damnation. Thou art in a ] 
 
 Cor. Not a whit, Touchst 
 
 at the court are as ridiculousin tjje countrv as the behaviour 
 of the country is most Mecourtr Y ou told me 
 
 you salute not at the court, but you kiss your hands: that 
 courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds. 
 
 Touch. Instance, briefly; come, instance. 
 
 Cor. Why, we are still ' and their fells, 
 
 you know, are greasy. 
 
 Touch. Why, doaiot wour courtier’s hands sweat ? 
 the grease of amiutton^is wholesome as the sweat ( 
 
 Shallow, shallow. A better instance, I say; come. 
 
 
du/e/ - 
 
 yrtJL&dJt D 
 
 ACT III. SCENE II. 
 
 ~ AjT> 
 
 37 
 
 
 Cor. Besides, our hands are hard. 
 
 Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again. 
 
 A more sounder instance, come. 
 
 Cor. And they are often tarred over with the surgery of 
 our sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier’s 
 hands are perfumed with civet. 
 
 Touch. Most shallow man ! thou worms-meat, in respect of ^ Q _JL 
 a good piece of flesh indeed ! Learn of the wise, and perpend: 
 
 C * V jL* s °f a baser birth than tar, the very uncleanly flux of a 
 catT Mend the instance, shepherd. 62 
 
 Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me: I’ll rest. 
 
 
 man 
 
 that I wear, owe no man h<jte 
 dUitglad of other men’s good/l 
 
 greatest of my pride is to see my ewes graze and my laml 
 suck. 70 
 
 Touch. That is another simple sin in you, to bring the 
 ewes and the rams together. If thou beest not damned for 
 this, the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see 
 else how thou shouldst ’scape. 
 
 Cor. Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mis¬ 
 tress’s brother. 
 
 Ros. 
 
 Enter ROSALIND, -with a paper , reading. 
 
 From the ea st to western In d,& iVf 
 No jewel is like Rosalind. 
 
 Her worth, being mounted on the wind, 
 
 Through all the world bears Rosalind. 80 
 
 All the pictures fairest lined 
 Are but black to Rosalind. 
 
 Let no face be kept in mind 
 But the fair of Rosalind. 
 
 Touch. I ’ll rhyme you so eight years together, ainners and 
 suppers and sleeping-hours excepted ^it is the right hntter - 
 , /t . women’s rank to mar ket- (ElCJL d _ _ 
 
 d&U/t (M/LA, *IjOUs J ^ 
 
 (A Tcslj^L\A*ajCjL^ 
 
9 ° 
 
 3 8 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Ros. Out, fool! 
 
 Touch. For a taste: 
 
 If a hart do lack a hind, 90 
 
 Let him seek out Rosalind. 
 
 If the cat will after kind, 
 
 So be sure will Rosalind. 
 
 Winter garments must be lined, 
 
 So must slender Rosalind. ft&Ulve*- 
 
 They that reap must sheaf and bind; 
 
 Then to cart with Rosalind. 
 
 Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, 
 
 Such a nut is Rosalind. 
 
 He that sweetest rose will find 100 
 
 Must find love’s prick and Rosalind. 
 
 This is the very false gallop of verses: why do you infect 
 yourself with them ? 
 
 Ros. Peace, you dull fool! I founcl them on a tree. 
 
 Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. 
 
 Ros. I ’ll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with 
 a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit i’ the country; 
 for you ’ll be rotten ere you be half ripe^ and that’s the 
 ’XFlaaJL v irt ue of the medlar. 
 
 Touch. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let*tne 
 forest judge. 
 
 Enter Celia, with a writing. 
 
 Ros. Peace! 
 
 Here comes my sister, reading: stand aside. 
 
 Cel. [Reads] 
 
 Why should this a desert be? 
 l it is unpeopled? No; 
 
 Tongues I’ll hang on every tree, 
 
 That shall civil sayings show: 
 
 Some, how brief the life of man 
 l\ftU*AkulAu^ Runs his er ™S Pilgrimage, 
 
 Jj XtyX/x^ ' Tha t the stretching of a span 
 
 Buckles in his sum of age; 
 
 in 
 
 ee 
 
 • M • • • A * 
 
 or 
 
 120 
 
 
f 
 
 ACT III. SCENE II. 
 
 39 
 
 Some, of violated vows 
 
 ’Twixt the souls of friend and friend: 
 But upon the fairest boughs, 
 
 Or at every sentence end, 
 
 Will I Rosalinda write, 
 
 ’ I * s -\o nc oil f hnf von /A 4-r\ lm Aiir 
 
 would in little, show. 
 
 I U /-\ 4- 1—1. i r ■%-* (X nrii n o v 
 
 With all graces wide-enlarged: 
 Nature presently distill’d 
 
 Helen’s cheek, but not her heart, 
 Olponatra’s maiestv. 
 
 And I to liv e and die her slave. Cu^ikjJc i) 
 Ros. O most gentle pulpiter! what tedious homily of love 
 have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried, 
 ‘ Have patience, good people ’! 
 
 Cel. How now! back, friends! Shepherd, go off a little. 
 Go with him, sirrah. 
 
 Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable 
 treat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with .s cri p.; 
 
 scrippage. 
 
 Cel. Didst thou hear these verses ? 
 
 Ros. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of. 
 them had in them more feet than the verses would bear. 
 
 Cel. That’s no matter: the feet might bear the verses. 
 Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear them¬ 
 selves without the verse and therefore stood lamely in the 
 
 verse. 
 
^TtUs. MajxA a. (^HULc^, 
 
 Ja-^LM^WL^ j OuZt* . 
 
 40 
 
 AS FOtf LZ&E /r. 
 
 Cel. But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name 
 should be hanged and caj-vedn pon these trees? 160 
 
 you came; for look here what I found on a palm-tree. I was 
 never so be-rhymed since Pythagoras’ time, that I was an 
 
 Irish rat, which I can hardlyjemember. 
 
 lei 
 
 Ros 
 
 Cel. 
 
 {}/u^9^CtiAtei. T r o Ifa " 
 
 ath done this ? 
 
 H<aQo^ 
 
 J&-+J 
 
 Is it a man ? 
 
 And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. 
 Change you colour ? 
 
 Ros. I prithee, who? 169 
 
 Cel. O Lord, Lord! It is a hard matter for friends to 
 meet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes 
 aud so encounter. 
 
 Ros. Nay, but who is it ? 
 
 Cel. Is it possible ? 
 
 P^os. Nay, I prithee now with'mo^t petitionai 
 tell me who it is. 
 
 Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonder¬ 
 ful! and ^t a ga un, v ^nd^ u ^^ n d^ ^ier that, out of al l 
 
 C^^^^^^^^^xio n ! dosl^tlibu^^nt;, though I am 
 'aparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my 
 
 vehement 
 
 
 |n 
 
 1:1 
 
 disposition? One inch of delay more is a South-sea of 
 discovery; I prithee, tell me who is it quickly, and speak 
 apace. I would thou couldst stammer, that thou mightst 
 pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes 
 out of a narrow-mouthed bottle, either too much at once, 
 or none at all. I prithee, take the cork ‘Ofthv m outh 
 that I may drink thy tidings, js he of GoasmMn^ ? What 
 manner of man ? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth 
 a beard? 19° 
 
 Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard. 
 
 Ros. 
 
 I 
 
 MiL 
 
 . yp jvwj. Why, God will send more, if the man will be thank- 
 
 !**- faJuiirtAjd-n~cCt> uhuia- clsuuoi 
 
 o br^ju^i^dU. ajLtoULx_JJti Li* 
 

 Qj^aa(MuA4*Xa 
 
 200 
 
 III. SCENE II. 41 
 
 UtAaA J-&y 
 
 ful: let me stay_the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not 
 the knowledge of his chin. 
 
 Cel. It is young Orlando that tripped up the wrestler’s 
 heels and your heart both in an instant. 
 
 Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking: speak, sad brow 
 and true maid. 
 
 Cel. I’ faith, coz, ’tis he. 
 
 Ros. Orlando ? 
 
 Cel. Orlando. 
 
 Ros. Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and 
 hose ? What did he when thou sawest him ? What said he ? (if&o 
 
 How looked he ? Wherein went...he ? What makes he here ?~£ .J *^£*42 
 Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he ' 
 
 with thee ? and when shalt thou see him again ? Answer me 
 in one word - 
 
 Cel. You must borrow me Gargantua’s mouth first: ’tis a 
 word too great for any mouth of this age’s size. To say ay 
 and no to these particulars is more than to answer in a 
 catechism. 211 
 
 Ros. But doth he know that I am in this forest and in 
 man’s apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he 
 wrestled? 
 
 Cel. It is as easy to count atomies as to resolv e the pro- . 
 
 positions of a lover; but take a taste of my finding him, and 
 relish it with good observanc e. I foundhjm, under a tree^ 4 
 like a dropped acorn. 
 
 Ros. It may well be called Jove’s tree, when it drops 
 forth such fruit. 220 
 
 Cel. Give me audience, good madam. 
 
 Ros. Proceed. 
 
 Cel. There lay he, stretched along, like a wounded knight. 
 
 Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes _ 
 the grmind.-fcj(jL BVCAllfUL^ 
 
 Cel. Cry { holla ’ to thy trnigue, I prithee^ it curvets un- . 
 seasonably. Hy^ was furnished like a hunter. 
 
 -< j gl~ $ 
 
42 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT . 
 
 Ros. O, ominous! he comes to kill my heart. 
 Cel. I would sing my song without a burden: thou 
 me out of tune. pUuh MX— 
 
 rineest 
 
 Ros. Do you not know I am a woman ? when I think, I 
 
 TS& aerate?- 
 
 Enter Orlando and Jaques. 
 
 Ros. ’Tis he: slink by, and note him. 
 
 Jaq. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I 
 had as lief have been myself alone. 
 
 Or/. And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you 
 too for your society. 
 
 Jaq. God be wi’ you: let’s meet as little as we can. 
 
 Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers. 240 
 
 Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love- 
 songs in their barks. 
 
 Orl. I pray you, mar no moe of my verses with reading 
 them ill-favouredly. 
 
 Jaq. Rosalind is your love’s name ? 
 
 Orl. Yes, just. Ac 
 
 Jaq. I do not like her name. 
 
 Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you when she was 
 christened. 
 
 Jaq. What stature is she of? 250 
 
 Orl. Just as high as my heart. 
 
 Jaq. You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been 
 acquainted with goldsmiths’ wives, and conned them (wit of 
 rings ? , 
 
 Orl. Not so; but I answer you righ t painted cloth, from 
 whence you have studied your questions.^wtjCL- 
 
 Jaq. You have a nimble wit: I think ’twas made of 
 Atalanta’s heels. Will you sit down with me? and we two 
 will rail against our mistress the world and all our misery. 
 
 Orl. I will chide no breather in the world but myself, 
 
 261 
 
 against whom I know most faults 
 
 
ACT III. SCENE II. 
 
 43 
 
 Jaq. The worst fault you have is to be in love. 
 
 Orl. ’Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. 
 I am weary of you. 
 
 Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found 
 you. 
 
 Orl. He is drowned in the brook: look but in, and you 
 shall see him. 
 
 Jaq. There I shall see mine own figure. 269 
 
 Orl. Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher. 
 
 Jaq. I’ll tarry no longer with you : farewell, good Signior 
 Love. 
 
 Orl. I am glad of your departure: adieu, good Monsieur 
 Melancholy. [Exit Jaques. 
 
 Ros. [Aside to Celia\ I will speak to him like a saucy 
 lackey and under that habit play the knave with him. Do 
 you hear, forester? 
 
 Orl. Very well: what would you ? 
 
 Ros. I pray you, what is’t o’ clock ? 
 
 Orl. You should ask me what time o’ day: there’s no 
 clock in the forest. 281 
 
 Ros. Then there is no true lover in the forest; else sighing 
 every minute and groaning every hour would detect the lazy 
 foot of Time as well as a clock. 
 
 Orl. And why not the svvift foot of Time ? had not that 
 been as proper ? 
 
 Ros. By no means, sir: Time travels in divers paces with 
 divers persons. I’ll tell you who Time ambles withal, who 
 Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal and who he 
 stands still withal. 290 
 
 Orl. I prithee, who doth he trot withal ? 
 
 Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between 
 the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemnized : 
 if the interim be but a se’nnight, Time’s pace is so hard that 
 it seems the length of sevep year. 
 
44 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Orl. Who ambles Time withal ? 
 
 Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin and a rich man that 
 hath not the gout, for the one sleeps easily because he cannot 
 study and the other lives merrily because he feels no pain; the 
 one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning, the 
 other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury; these 
 Time ambles withal. 302 
 
 Orl. Who doth he gallop withal ? 
 
 Ros. With a thief to the gallows, for though he go as 
 softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there. 
 
 Orl. Who stays it still withal ? 
 
 Ros. With lawyers in the vacation: for they sleep be¬ 
 tween term and term and then they perceive not how Time 
 
 moves. 
 
 Orl. Where dwell you, pretty youth ? 
 
 310 
 
 Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the skirts 
 the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat. 
 
 Orl. Are you native of thjs place ? 6 
 
 Ros. As the cony mat you see dwell where 
 
 Orl. Your accent is something finer than vou could 
 
 \J *- Kos. 1 nave oeen tola so many: Out indeed an old 
 ^^ pligious -unde of mine taught me to speak, who was in his 
 xl a an ^ an( ^ man: one that knew courtship too well, 
 
 a dyior there he fell in love. read many 
 
 wycxMW // j ec t ures against it, and I th 
 
 be touched with so many gi 
 
 taxed their whole sex withal. 
 
 Orl. Gan you remember any of the prini 
 he laid to the charge of women? 
 
 Ros. There were none principal: they were 
 another as half-pence are, every one fault seemin 
 till his fellow-fault came to match it. 
 
 Orl. I prithee, recount some of them. 
 
 Ros. No, I will not cast away my physic but c 
 
CL 
 
 IfrUn/ 
 
 Co (aa. 
 
 ajs xMk~ Q-<x^^ul dL&LA- . ^ 
 
 ACT III. SCENE II. 45 
 
 are sick. There is a man haunts the forest, that abuses our 
 young plants with carving ‘ Rosalind ’ on their barks ; hangs 
 odes upon hawthorns and elegies on brambles, all, forsooth, fij/m (JT$\jd 
 deifying the name of Rosalind: if I could meet that fancy- JL —/ y ' 
 monger , I would give him^some good counsel, for he seems to • ^ ‘ f ^ 
 have the quotidian of love upon him. &■ 
 
 Orl. I am he that is so love-shaked: I pray you, tell me 
 your remedy. 
 
 Ros. There is none of my uncle’s marks upon you: he 
 taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage of 
 rushes I am sure you are not prisoner. , 
 
 rl. What were his marks? 
 
 A lean cheek, which you have not; a "bme ey e "ana .« Zk" 
 ken, which you have not; an unquestionable spirit, which v 
 have not; a beard neglected, which you have not; but I 
 pardon you for that, for simply your havin g in beard is a younger 
 ^Drother^revenue: then your hose should be ungartered ,, 
 your bcumin : unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe 
 untied and every thing about you demonstrating a careless / , . m 
 
 desolation ; but you are no such man ; you are rather point 
 devic e in your accoutrements as loving yourself than seeming AJL~ 
 the lover of any other. 352 
 
 Orl. Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I 
 love. 
 
 Ros. Me believe it! you may as soon make her that you 
 love believe it: which, I warrant, she is apter to do than to 
 confess she does: that is one of the points in the which 
 women still give the lie to their consciences. But, in good 
 sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein 
 Rosalind is so admired ? 360 
 
 Orl. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of 
 Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. 
 
 Ros. But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak ? 
 
 Orl. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much. 
 
 Ros. Love is merely a madness, and, I tell yo i^ d eserve s 
 as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do: a nd the 
 reason why they are not so punished and cured is, that the 
 
 
 1 / 
 
 "i 
 
 
 
 
 Tju^d . 5 
 
 JU> 
 
4 * 
 
 46 
 
 t&L 
 
 0 * AS YOU LIKE , 
 
 /T. 
 
 lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too. Yet 
 I profess curing it by counsel. 
 
 Orl. Did you ever cure any so? 370 
 
 Ros. Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to imagine 
 m e his love, his mistress; and I set him every day to woo 
 diet&iL : at which time would I, being but a moonish youth, 
 
 grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing and liking, proud, 
 fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of 
 smiles, for every passion some thing and for no passion truly 
 any thing, as boys and women are for the most part cattle of 
 this colour; would now like him, now loathe him; then 
 entertain him, then forswear him; now weep for him, then 
 spit at him; that I drave my suitor from his mad humour of 
 love to a living humour of madness; which was, to forswear 
 the full stream of the world and to live in a nook merely 
 monastic. And thus I cured him; and this way will I take 
 upon me to wash your fiver as clean as a sound sheep’s heart, 
 that there shall not be one spot of love in’t. 385 
 
 Orl. I would not be cured, youth. 
 
 Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call me'Rosalind 
 and come every day to my cote a nd woo me. ^jyJt^CL C*-~ 
 
 Orl. Now, by the faith of my love, I will: tell me where 
 it is. 
 
 ( Ros. Go with me to it and I’ll show it you: and by the 
 
 t way you shall tell me where in the forest you live. Will 
 
 you go ? 
 
 Orl. With all my heart, good youth. 394 
 
 Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will 
 you go ? [Exeunt. 
 
 tVf— 
 
 Off SCENEirn The foies t. * 
 
 Enter TOUCHSTONE and Audrey; JAQUES behind. 
 
 Touch. Come apace, good Audrey: I will fetch up your 
 goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey? am I the man yet? 
 doth my simple featu re content you ? 
 
ACT III. SCENE III, 
 
 47 
 
 Aud. Your features! Lord warrant us! what features? 
 Touch. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most 
 
 juzjzt 
 
 iq. [Aside ] O knowledge ill-inhaHT 
 in a thatched house! ( iL.fh&UuoCo 
 
 the Goths. 
 
 k * — ■ -wg 
 
 JTworse than Jow 
 
 Jh’2UL. . 
 
 8 
 
 I do not know what ‘poetical’ is: is it honest 4 u<JjL% 
 
 Touch. When a rnairs verses cannot be understood, nor a 
 man’s good wit seconded with the forward child Understand 
 ing, it strikes a man.more dead than a great reckoning j n - _ _ 
 
 little room . Truly, 1 would the gods had made thee poetical.^ faiLsfcOOlfi 
 
 Aud. 
 
 deed and word ? is it a true thing ? 
 
 Touch. No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most feign¬ 
 ing ; and lovers are given to poetry, and what they swear in 
 poetry may be said as lovers they do feign. 17 
 
 Aud. Do you wish then that the gods had made me 
 poetical ? 
 
 Touch. I do, truly; for thou swearest to me thou art 
 honest: now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope 
 thou didst feign. 
 
 Aud. Would you not have me honest? 
 
 Touch. No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured; for 
 honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar. 
 
 Jaq. [Aside] A material fool 
 
 Aud. Well, I am not fair; and^Jiiereforepray the gods 
 make me honest. 
 
 Touch . Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut 
 were to put good meat into an unclean dish. 30 
 
 Aud. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul. 
 
 Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness! slut¬ 
 tishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will 
 marry thee, and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver 
 Martext, the vicar of the next village, who hath promised to 
 meet me in this place of the forest and to couple us. 
 
 Jaq. [Aside] I would fain see this meeting. 
 
 Aud. Well, the gods give us joy! 38 
 
 
 
/"<7v 6Lc*2t~A 
 
 48 
 
 ^0*7 Z/2LE /T. 
 
 taMsL-. 
 
 /) * To«c£. Amen. A man may, if he were of 4 fearful heart, 
 
 AJL 4 JlAj£LML stagger in this attempt; for here we have no temple but the 
 (tifa *t* 4 M? wood > no assembly but horn-beasts. But fwhat though ? 
 
 ^ilt^^ Goiirage ! As horns are odious > they are nlcessarv . 
 ( \S& y Sa ^’ * man ^ a man knows no end of his goods: ’ right; 
 
 It is 
 
 [ 
 
 
 many 
 
 a man has good horns, and knows no end of them. Well, 
 that is the dowry of his wife; ’tis none of his own getting. 
 Horns? Even so. Poor men alone? No, no; the noblest 
 deer hath them as huge as the rascajj Is the single man 
 therefore blessed? No: as a walled town is more worthier 
 than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more 
 honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor; and by how 
 much defence is better than no skill, by so much is a horn 
 more precious than to want. Here comes §ir Oliver., 52 
 
 Enter Sir OliverTMartext? 
 
 Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met: will you dispatch us 
 here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel ? 
 
 Sir OH. Is there none here to give the woman? 
 
 Touch. I will not take her on gift of any man. 
 
 Sir Oli. Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not 
 lawful. 
 
 Jaq . [Advancing\ Proceed, proceed: I’ll give her. 59 
 Touch. Good even, good Master What-ye-call’t: how do 
 you, sir? You are very well met: God ’ild y ouTonyour last << 
 company: I am very glad to see you ;/even ato^ m^^W?^ 
 ^ here, sir: nay, pray be covered . / 36 vL htAAJOJut 
 
 Jaq. Will you be married, jnotl^y ? 
 
 ! 
 
 if 
 
 1 I 
 
 Touch. As the ox hath his bow, shyfhe horse his curb and 
 the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires; and as pigeons 
 bill, so wedlock would be nibbling. 
 
 Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breeding, be 
 married under a bush like a beggar ? Get you to church, and 
 have a good priest that can tell you what marriage is: this 
 fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot; then 
 one of you will prove a shrunk panel and, like green timber, 
 warp, warp. 73 
 
ACT Ill. SCENE 
 
 E IV. 4Q 
 
 nind but I were better to u 
 
 Touch. [Aside] I am not in the mind b ut I were bett er to 
 be married of him than of another: for he is not like to 
 marry me well; and not being well married, it will be a good 
 excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife. 
 
 Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. 
 
 Touch. Come, sweet Audrey: 
 
 Farewell, good Master Oliver: not,— 80 
 
 O sweet Oliver, 
 
 O brave Oliver, 
 
 Leave me not behind thee: 
 
 
 but,— 
 
 Sir OH. 
 
 Wind away, 
 
 Begone, I say, 
 
 I will not to wedding with thee. 
 
 [Exeunt Jaques , Touchstone and Audrey. 
 ’Tis no matter: ne’er a fantastical knave of them 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 all shall flout me out of my callin 
 
 ny calling. 
 
 Scene IV. The forest. 
 
 Enter Rosalind and Celia. 
 
 Ros. Never talk to me; I will weep. 
 
 Cel. Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to consider 
 that tears do not become a man. 
 
 Ros. But have I not cause to weep ? 
 
 Cel. As good cause as one would desire ; therefore weep. 
 
 Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling colour. 
 
 Cel. Something browner than Judas’s : marry, his kisses 
 are Judas’s own children. 
 
 Ros. I’ faith, his hair is of a good colour. 
 
 Cel. An excellent colour: your chestnut was ever the 
 only colour. 11 
 
 Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of iju 
 
 hoty-bread. 
 
 Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast J jps--of^ 1 ianaT a nui v 
 
 A faffs 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 of winter’s sisterhood ki^es not more religiously: the very 
 ice of chastity is inTEem. 
 
 Ros. But why did he swear he would come this morning, 
 and comes not ? 
 
 Cel. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. 
 
 Ros. Do you think so? 20 
 
 Cel. Yes; I think he is not a pick-purse nor a horse¬ 
 stealer, but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave 
 as a covered goblet or a worm-eaten nut. 
 
 Ros. Not true in love? 
 
 Cel. Yes, when he is in; but I think he is not in. 
 
 Ros. You have heard him swear downright he was. 
 
 Cel. ‘ Was ’ is not ‘ is ’: besides, the oath of a lover is no 
 stronger than the word of a tapster; they are both the 
 confirmer of false reckonings. He attends here in the forest 
 on the duke your father. 
 
 Ros. I met the duke yesterday and had much question 
 with him: he asked me of what parentage I was ; I told him, 
 of as good as he; so he laughed and let me go. But w hat 
 talk we of fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando ? 
 
 Cel. O, that’s a brave man! he writes brave verses, speaks 
 brave words, swears brave oaths and l^saks ^A otn^ b r^ivelw 
 quite traverse, athwart the heart of his iove ryas a pui snyf ; * 
 tfiter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his stail 
 like a noble goose: but all’s brave that youth mounts and 
 folly guides. Who comes here ? 4 ° 
 
 Enter CORIN. 
 
 Cor. Mistress and master, you have oft enquired 
 After the shepherd that complain’d of love, 
 
 Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, 
 
 Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess 
 That was his mistress. 
 
 Cel. Well, and what of him? 
 
 Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play’d, 
 
 Between the pale complexion of true love 
 ./ And the red glow of sj/orn and proud disdain, 
 

 
 ACT III. SCENE V. 
 
 Go hence a little and 1 shall conduct you, 
 
 If you will mark it. 
 
 Ros. O, come, let us remove 
 
 The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. 
 Bring us to this sight, and you shall say 
 I’ll prove a busy actor in their play. 
 
 51 
 
 50 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. Another part of the forest. 
 
 Enter SlLVIUS and PHEBE. 
 
 Sil. 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 the accustom’d sight of death makes hard. 
 Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck Jwb> aaJ 
 But first begs pardon : will you sterner be , 
 
 Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ? 
 
 
 10 
 
 Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin, behind. 
 
 Phe. 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 but upon a rush, 
 
 The cicatric e and capable impressure Ck, yi\ 0 s/ry Ov A^lAdjt 4 AAGiXLd-u 
 Thy palm some moment ke"eps; but now mine eyes, ({/yCj - 
 Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not, / 
 
 20 
 
5 2 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Nor, 1 am sure, there is no force in eyes 
 That can do hurt. 
 
 SiL O dear Phebe, 
 
 If ever,—as that ever may be near,— 
 
 You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, 
 i Then shall you know the wounds invisible 30 
 
 That love’s keen arrows make. 
 
 Phe. 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. . 
 
 Ros. 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,— 
 .j • h As, by my faith, I see no more in you 
 
 / Than without candle may go dark to bed— 
 l Must you be therefore proud and pitiless ? 40 
 
 Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? 
 
 T spp tin mnrp in vnn than in the ordinarv 
 
 I see no more in you than in the ordinary 
 Of nature’s sal e-w ork. ’Od ’s my little, life. 
 
 
 
 I think she means to tangle my eyes 
 No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after Tbkf CX 
 ’Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair 
 Your bugleTeyeballs^ nor your cheek of creamy OxLAzt. 
 
 That can^ntamVmyspirits to your worship. 'Ukaa 
 
 
 TffijL °u shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, 
 
 f'ike foggy south puffing with wind and rain ? 50 
 
 are a thousand times a properer 
 
 Than shp a woman • ’Hq mirh FnrVIc; as vnu 
 
 
 Than she a woman: ’tis such~fobTs 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: 
 
 (rLoLp_J 
 
 60 
 

 ACT III. SCENE V. 53 
 
 Cry the man merc y; love him; take his offer: 
 
 Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. >6c( 
 
 So take her to thee, shepherd: fare you well. 
 
 Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year together: 
 
 I had rather hear you chide than this man woo. 
 
 Ros. He’s fallen 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 ? 
 
 Phe. For no ill will I bear you. 70 
 
 Ros. 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 abu sed in sight as he. aJiXJLA^t 
 Come, to our flock. [ Exeunt RosalindCelia and Corin. 
 
 Phe. Dead shephe rd, now I find thy saw of might, 80 . 
 ‘Who ever loved that loved not at first sight 
 
 % 
 
 « yviytjL. 
 
 Sil. Sweet Phebe,— 
 
 Phe. Fla, what say’st thou, Silvius? 
 
 Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me. 
 
 Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. 
 
 Sil. 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 extermined . a 
 
 Phe. Thou hast my love: is not that neighbourly ? 
 
 Sil. I would have you. 
 
 Phe. Why, that were covetousness. 90 
 
 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^ 
 
 }l/C{ju r x£^UAf^e^ MlAjo * 
 

 
 It's 
 
 1 *J I 
 
 < 
 
 ■t i 
 
 r, 
 
 
 lii 
 
 54 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 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. 
 
 Sil. 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 io<d 
 
 To glean the broken ears after the man i &U&L a 
 That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then 
 A scatter’d smile, and that I’ll live upon. <L&~r-iA~ 
 
 Phe. Know’st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhiie ? 
 
 Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft; 
 
 And he hath bought the cottage and the b ound s j 
 That the old carlot once was master of.&ffitiAH, ^XJUojtjL, C,. 
 
 
 ]!; 
 
 Ua(X£&u$- 
 
 1 
 
 Phe. 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 no 
 
 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 120 
 
 Than that mix’d in his cheek; ’twas just the difference 
 Betwixt the c onstant red and mingled dam ask. JjUia. 
 
 There be some women, Silvius, had the^nnark’d himy 
 7 In parcels as I did, would have gone n ear 
 To fall in love with him: but,/for my part, 
 
 I love him not nor hate him/not; and yet 
 I have more cause t<\ hate/him than to lovehim- 
 For w hat had he to \lo fo chide at me ? ^Ti 
 He said niineeyeswgre black and my hairrna 
 And, now I a rn re member’d, scorn’d at me : 
 
 
 130 
 
 
 4Y 
 
 
 
ACT IV. SCENE I. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 Sil. Phebe, with all my heart. 
 
 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. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. The forest. 
 
 Enter ROSALIND, Celia, and JAQUES. 
 
 Jaq. I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted 
 with thee. 
 
 Ros. They say you are a melancholy fellow. 
 
 Jaq. I am so; I do love it better than laughing. 
 
 Ros. Those that are in extremity of^erther .areabonaingbl e 
 fellows and betray themselves to every modern censur e worse 
 than drunkards. 
 
 Jaq. Why, ’tis good to be sad and say nothing. 
 
 Ros. Why then, ’tis good to be a post. 9 
 
 Jaq. 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 am¬ 
 bitious ; nor -the lawyer’s, which is politic; nor the lady’s, . 
 
 which is nice; nor the lover’s, which is all these: but it 
 a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many 
 
 extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundn/con- U 7 
 templation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps 
 me in a most humorous sadness, n 
 
 fjL 
 
 / 
 
 
 
 
) 
 
 5 « 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Ros. 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. 22 
 
 Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience. 
 
 R.os. 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! 
 
 Enter Orlando. 
 
 Or/. Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind! 
 
 Jaq. Nay, then God be wi’ you, an you talk in blank 
 
 verse - [Exit. 
 
 Ros. 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 Y ou U^cmmtenance you are, or I will 
 WLLv-Iajl (scarce think you have- jfMffTm^ gondola . Why, how now, 
 OsUAjUUL* jOrlando ! where have you been all this while? You a lover! 
 
 ^An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight 
 more. 
 
 Or/. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my 
 promise. 
 
 Ros. Break an hour’s promise in love! He that will divide 
 a minute into a thousand parts and break but a part of the 
 thousandth part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be 
 said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o’ the shoulder, but 
 I’ll warrant him heart-whole. OAJixmXeA JlZcc* .44 
 
 Or 1 . Pardon me, dear Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight: 
 
 I had as lief be wooed of a snail. 
 
 Orl. Of a snail ? 
 
 Ros. 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 Tl/jT destiny with him. 51 
 
 Orl. What’s that? .* , 
 
ACT IV. SCENE I. 
 
 57 
 
 Ros. Why, horns, which such as you are fain to be be¬ 
 holding to your wives for: but he comes armed in his fortune 
 
 and pre vents the slander of his wife. 
 
 Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is 
 virtuous. 
 
 Ros. And I am your Rosalind. 
 
 Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he^ath a Rosalind 
 of a better leer than you. Qj^yULG^JLA^iJC>^ . 60 
 
 Ros. Come, woo me, woo me, lor 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 ? 
 
 ]/Orl. I would kiss before I spoke. 
 
 Ros. Nay, you were better speak first, and when you 
 were gravelled 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. 
 
 Orl. How if the kiss be denied ? 70 
 
 Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins 
 new matter. 
 
 Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress ? 
 
 Ros. Marry, that Should you, if I were your mistress, or 
 I should think my honesty ranker than my wit. 
 
 Orl. What, of my suit? 
 
 Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. 
 Am not I your Rosalind? 
 
 Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because I would be 
 talking of her. 80 
 
 /R os. Well in her person I say I will not have you. 
 
 (/ Orl. Then in mine own person I die. 
 
 Ros. 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 dashed out he did 
 
 what he could to die befoi eras of 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair year, though 
 Hero had turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsum¬ 
 mer night; for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him 
 in the Hellespont and being taken with the cramp was 
 drowned: 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. 
 
 Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind, 
 for, I protest, her frown might kill me. 96 
 
 Ros. 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. 
 
 Orl. Then love me, Rosalind. 100 
 
 Ros. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all. 
 
 Orl. And wilt thou have me? 
 
 Ros. Ay, and twenty such. 
 
 Orl. What sayest thou ? 
 
 Ros. Are you not good ? 
 
 Orl. I hope so. 
 
 Ros. 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 ? 
 
 Orl. Pray thee, marry us. no 
 
 Cel. I cannot say the words. 
 
 Ros. You must begin, ‘Will you, Orlando—’ 
 
 Cel. Go to. Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind ? 
 y'Orl. I will. 
 
 Ros. Ay, but when ? 
 
 Orl. Why now; as fast as she can marry us. 
 
 Ros. Then you must say ‘ I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.’ 
 
 Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. 
 
 t^Ros. I might ask you for your commission; but I d o.take— 
 thee, Orlando, for.ipy.husband: there’s a girl goes before the 
 priest; and certainly a woman’s thought runs before her 
 actions, *23 
 
ACT IV. SCENE I. 
 
 59 
 
 Orl. So do all thoughts; they are winged. 
 
 Ros. Now tell me how long you would have her after you 
 have possessed her. 
 
 Orl. For ever and a day. 
 
 Ros. 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 
 disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when 
 thou art inclined to sleep. 136 
 
 Orl. But will my Rosalind do so ? 
 
 Ros. By my life, she will do as I do. 
 
 Orl. O, but she is wise. 
 
 Ros. 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. • H 4 
 
 Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say 
 ‘ Wit, whither wilt ? ’ 
 
 Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for it till you met 
 your wife’s wit going to your neighbour’s bed. 
 
 Orl. And what wit could wit have to excuse that? 
 
 Ros. 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! 154 
 
 Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee. 
 
 Ros. Alas! dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours. 
 
 Orl. I mu st attend t he duke at dinner: by two o’clock 
 I will be with thee again. ^ 
 
6o 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 ¥ 
 
 P / 
 
 Ros. 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? 
 
 Or/. Ay, sweet Rosalind. 163 
 
 Ros. 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. 171 
 
 Orl. With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my 
 Rosalind: so adieu. t*. 
 
 Ros. Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such 
 offenders, and let Time try: adieu. [Exit Orlando. 
 
 Cel. You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate : 
 we must have your doublet and hose plucked over your head, 
 and show the world what the bird hath done to her own 
 nest. 
 
 -i 
 
 Ros. 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. 183 
 
 Cel. Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as you pour affec¬ 
 tion in, it runs out. 
 
 Ros. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus that was be¬ 
 got of thought, conceived 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, 191 
 
 Cel. And I’ll sleep. [Exeunt. 
 
ACT IV. SCENE III. 
 
 6l 
 
 Scene II. The forest. 
 
 Enter Jaques, Lords, and Foresters. 
 
 Jaq. Which is he that killed the deer? 
 
 A Lord. Sir, it was I. 
 
 Jaq. Let’s present him to the duke, like a Roman con¬ 
 queror ; 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 ? 
 
 For. Yes, sir. 
 
 Jaq. Sing it: ’tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make 
 noise enough. 
 
 Song. 
 
 For. What shall he have that kill’d the deer? io 
 
 His leather skin and horns to wear. 
 
 Then sing him home; 
 
 [The rest shall bear this burden. 
 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. 
 
 Scene III. The forest. 
 
 Enter Rosalind and Celia. 
 
 Ros. How say you now ? Is it not past two o’clock ? and 
 here much Orlando! 
 
 Cel. 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 SiLYlUS. 
 
 Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth; 
 
 My gentle Phebe bid me give you this: 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 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, 
 
 io 
 
 It bears an angry tenour: pardon me; 
 
 I am but as a guiltless messenger. 
 
 Ros. 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. " ’Ods 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. 3 o 
 
 Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents: 
 
 Phebe did write it. 
 
 Ros. 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-colou r’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. 
 
 Sil. Sure, it is hers. 30 
 
 Ros. Why, ’tis a boisterous and a cruel style, 
 
 A style for challengers; why, she defies me, 
 
 Like Turk to Christian: women’s gentle brain 
 i_Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, 
 
 :h Ethiope words, blacker in their effect 
 
 an in their countenance. Will you hear the letter? 
 
 Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet; 
 
 Yet heard too much of Phebe’s cruelty. 
 
 Ros. She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant writes. 
 [Reads] Art thou god to shepherd turn’d, 40 
 
 / 
 
 That a maiden’s heart hath burn’d? 
 Can a woman rail thus? 
 
 Sil. Call you this railing? 
 
ACT IV. SCENE III. 
 
 6 3 
 
 Ros. [Reads] 
 
 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. 9 
 
 If the scorn of your bright eyne 5° 
 
 Have power to raise such love in mine, . 
 
 Alack, in me what strange effect 
 
 Would they work in mild aspect! (jjisijji rt&X- 
 
 Whiles you chid me, I did love; ffv' - 
 
 How then might your prayers 
 
 He that brings this love to thee ^ 
 
 Little knows this love in me: f 
 
 And by him seal up thy mind; . . m . . . 
 
 Whether that thy youth and kind XILUAAjCJlC iAAAXLtoAJU&i^ 
 Will the faithful offer take 60 
 
 Of me and all that I can make: 
 
 Or else by him my love deny, 
 
 And then I ’ll study how to die. 
 
 Sil. Call you this chiding? 
 
 Cel. Alas, poor shepherd! 
 
 Ros. Do you pity him ? no, he deserves no pity/ Wilt thou 
 love such a woman ? What, to make thee an in/trument and 
 play false strains upon thee! not to be endured! WeU, . 
 
 your way to her, for I see love hath made thee a tame sjiake,^J- 
 and say this to her: that if she love me, I charge her to lovega^dK^T 
 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. V Exit Stlvtus. 
 
 Enter OLIVER. 
 
 OIL Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, if you know, 
 
 Where in the purlieus of this forest stands .7 5 
 
 A sheep-cote fenced about with olive trees? 
 
 Cel. West of this place, down in the ne ighbou r bottom: 
 
 The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream / 
 
 hzdkliw dalsL.- 
 
 
C 4 
 
 . 16 ' YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 juL4U~4 J 
 
 ^ - 
 
 ? h(li^dMvrclZjLL % 
 3y this ? v 
 
 Left on your right hand brings you to the place* 
 
 But at this hour the house doth keep itself; 80 
 
 There’s none within. 
 
 Oli. 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 bes tows himself 
 Like a ripe~sister: the woman low 
 And browner than her brother.’ Are not you 
 The owner of the house I did enquire for? 
 
 Cel. It is no boast, being ask’d, to say we are. 
 
 Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both, 90 
 
 And to that youth he calls his Rosalind 
 He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he 
 
 Ros. I am: what must we understand by 
 
 Oli. 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. 
 
 Cel. I pray you, tell it. 
 
 Oli. 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 fanc y, . 100 
 
 Lo, what befel! 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 wreathed itself, no 
 
 Who with her head nimble in threats approach’d 
 The opening of his mouth; but suddenly, 
 
 Seeing Orlando, it unlinked itself, 
 
 And with indented Hides did slip awav 
 Into a bush: under which bush s shade 
 A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, 
 
 Lay couching, head or^/ground, with catlike watch, 
 
ACT IV. SCENE III. 
 
 6 5 
 
 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. 
 
 Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that same brother; 
 And he did render him the most unnatural 
 That lived amongst men. 
 
 Oli. And well he miglit so do, 
 
 t same brother 
 
 4 ^* 4 . 1 
 
 (aj&ixJuMa 
 
 For well I kpow he was unnatural. 
 
 Ros. ifut^to’*(frfeicfo: did he leave him there, 
 
 ^ ■ ■ —— ., _ J 
 
 Food to the suck’d and hungry lioness? 
 
 Oli. Twice did he turn his back and purposed 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 **^**1*0* " * 
 
 From miserable slumber I awaked. 
 
 Cel. Are you his brother? 
 
 Ros. Was’t you he rescued? 
 
 Cel. Was’t you that did so oft contrive to kill him? 
 
 Oli. ’Twas I; but ’tis not I: I do not sh ame 
 To tell you what I was, since my conversion 
 So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. 
 
 Ros. But, for the bloody napkin? 4^7 . 
 
 Oli. By and^yT 
 
 When from the first to last betwixt us two 
 Tears our r ecoupmen ts had most kindly bathed, HAA-Ti 
 A s how I came into that desert place:—Ao Ay 
 In brief, he led me to the gentle duke, 0 
 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 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. . _ 
 
 Brief, I recover’d him, bound up his wound; 
 
 Ancf, after some small space, being strong at heart, 150 
 He sent me hither, stranger as I am, 
 
 To tell this story, that you might excuse 
 
 His broken promise, and to give this napkin 
 
 Dyed in his blood unto the shepherd youth 
 
 That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. [Rosalind s^uoons. 
 
 Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede! sweet Ganymede! 
 Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on blood. 
 Cel. There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede! 
 
 Oli. Look, he recovers. 
 
 Ros. I would I were at home. 
 
 youth: you a man! you lack a 
 
 Cel. We’ll lead you thither. 
 
 I pray you. will you take him by the arm ? 1 61 
 
 Oli. Be of‘good cne 
 man’s heart. fryuL, 
 
 Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body w ould think 
 this was well counterfeited! I pray you, tell your brother 
 how well I counterfeited. Heigh-ho! 
 
 Oli. This was not counterfeit: there is too great testimony 
 in your complexion that it was a passion of earnest. 
 
 Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you. 
 
 Oli. Well then, take a good heart and counterfeit to be 
 a man. 1 7 1 
 
 Ros. So I do: but, i’ faith, I should have been a woman by 
 right. 
 
 Cel. Come, you look paler and paler: pray you, draw 
 homewards. Good sir, go with us. 
 
 Oli. That will I, for I must bear answer back 
 How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. I shall devise something: but, I pray you, commend 
 jny counterfeiting to him. Will you go ? [Exeunt. 
 
ACT V. SCENE I. 
 
 67 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. The forest. 
 
 Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY. 
 
 Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle 
 Audrey. 
 
 And. Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old 
 gentlem an’s saying. 
 
 Touch . A most v 4 fcked Mr Oliver, Audrey, a most vile 
 Martext. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest 
 lays claim to you. 
 
 Aud. Ay, I know who ’tis; he hath no interest in me in 
 the world: here comes the man you mean. 9 
 
 Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown : by my 
 trr»tVi wp that Via vp priori wits have much to answer for: we 
 
 Enter William. 
 Audrey. 
 
 even, William. 
 
 Will. And good even to you, sir. 
 
 Touch. Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover 
 thy head; nay, prithee, be covered. How old are you, 
 friend ? 
 
 Will. Five and twenty, sir. 
 
 Touch. A ripe age. Is thy name William? 20 
 
 Will. William, sir. 
 
 Touch. A fair name. Wast born i’ the forest here? 
 
 Will. Ay, sir, I thank God. 
 
 Touch. 1 Thank God’; a good answer. Art rich? 
 
 Will. Faith, sir, so so. 
 
 Touch. ‘So so’ is good, very good, very excellent good; 
 and yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise ? 
 
 F 2 
 
68 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. 28 
 
 Touch. Why, thou sayest 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? 
 
 Will. I do, sir. 
 
 Touch. Give me your hand. Art thou learned? 
 
 Will. No, sir. 37 
 
 Touch. Then learn this of me : to have, is to have; for it is 
 a figure in rhetoric that drink, being poured out of a 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. 
 
 Will. Which he, sir? 
 
 Touch. 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; I will o’er-run thee with policy; 
 I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways: therefore tremble, 
 and depart. 54 
 
 And. Do, good William. 
 
 Will. God rest you merry, sir. *' [Exit. 
 
 Enter CORIN. 
 
 Cor. Our master and mistress seeks you; come, away, 
 away! 
 
 Touch, Trip, Audrey! trip, Audrey! I attend, I attend. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
ACT V. SCENE II. 
 
 69 
 
 SCENE II. The forest. 
 
 Enter ORLANDO and OLIVER. 
 
 0 / 7 . 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? 
 
 Oli. 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. 11 
 
 Orl. 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. 
 
 Ros. God save you, brother. 
 
 Oli. And you, fair sister. [Exit. 
 
 Ros. O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee 
 wear thy heart in a scarf! 
 
 Orl. It is my arm. 20 
 
 Ros. I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws 
 of a lion. 
 
 Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. 
 
 Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to 
 swoon when he showed me your handkercher? 
 
 Orl. Ay, and greater wonders than that. 
 
 Ros. 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 I came, saw, and overcame ’: for 
 your brother and my sister no sooner met but they looked, no 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 sooner looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, 
 no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason, no 
 sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; and in 
 
 these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage 
 
 which they will climb incontinent: they are in the very wrath 
 of love and they will together; clubs cannot part them. 36 
 
 Orl. They shall be married to-morrow, and I will bid thejL4UJ L 
 
 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. 
 
 Ros. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for 
 Rosalind ? 
 
 Orl. I can live no longer by thinking. 45 
 
 Ros. I will weary you then no longer with idle talking. 
 Know of me then, for now I speak fo some purpose, that I 
 know you are a gentleman of good crareinils^rnot this 
 that you should bear a good opinion~bT"my knowledge, in_- 
 say I know you are; neither do I labour for a 
 
 from you, to do yourself good and not to ^grace me . J 3 elieve 
 then, if you please, that I can things: I have, since 
 
 I was three year old, co n v e r s edwith a magician, most pro¬ 
 found in his art and yet not damnable. If you do love 
 
 osalind so near the heart as your ges t ure cries it out, when^M^ 
 
 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. 
 
 61 
 
 Orl. Speakest thou in sober meanings? 
 
 Ros. 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. 
 
ACT V. SCENE II. 
 
 71 
 
 Enter SlLVlUS and Phebe. 
 
 Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of hers. 
 
 Phe. Youth, you have done me much ungentleness, 
 
 To shew the letter that I writ to you. 
 
 Ros. I care not if I have: it is my study 7 ° 
 
 To seem despiteful and ungentle to you: 
 
 You are there followed by a faithful shepherd; 
 
 Look upon him, love him ; he worships you. 
 
 Phe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what ’tis to love. 
 
 Sil. It is to be all made of sighs and tears; 
 
 And so am I for Phebe. 
 
 Phe. And I for Ganymede. 
 
 Orl. And I for Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. And I for no woman. 
 
 Sil. It is to be all made of faith and service; 80 
 
 And so am I for Phebe. 
 
 Phe. And I for Ganymede. 
 
 Orl. And I for Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. And I for no woman. 
 
 Sil. 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 observance; 
 
 And so am I for Phebe. 9 ° 
 
 Phe. And so am I for Ganymede. 
 
 Orl. And so am I for Rosalind. 
 
 Ros. And so am I for no woman. 
 
 Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to love you ? 
 
 Sil. If this be so, why blame you me to love you? 
 
 Orl. If this be so, why blame you me to love you ? 
 
 Ros. Why do you speak too, ‘ Why blame you me to love 
 you?’ 
 
 Orl. To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. 99 
 
Ros. Pray you, no more of this; ’tis like the howling o f 
 foshjTOlves against thgjnoon. [To Si/.] I will help you, if I 
 can : [To Pbe.] I would love you, if I could. To-morrow meet 
 me all together. [To Pbe.] I will marry you, if ever I marry 
 woman, and I ’ll be married to-morrow: [To Or/.] I will satisfy 
 you, if ever I satisfied man, and you shall be married to¬ 
 morrow: [To Si/.] I will content you, if what pleases you 
 contents you, and you shall be married to-morrow. [To Or/.] 
 As you love Rosalind, meet: [To Si/.] as you love Phebe, 
 meet: and as I love no woman, I ’ll meet. So fare you well : 
 I have left you commands. j I0 
 
 Si/. I ’ll not fail, if I live. 
 
 Pbe. Nor I. 
 
 Or/. Nor I. 
 
 Scene III. The forest. 
 
 Enter Touchstone and Audrey. 
 
 Touch. To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey; to-morrow 
 will we be married. 
 
 Aud. I do desire it with all my heart; and I hope it is 
 no dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of thp world 
 
 / ~ 
 
 First Page. Well met, honest gentleman. 
 
 Touch. By my troth, well met. Come, sit, sit, and a 
 
 song. 
 
 Sec. Page. We are for you : sit i’ the middle. 9 
 
 First Page. Shajl_ we clap into’t roun dly, without hawk¬ 
 ing or spitting or saying we are hoarse, wl ' ' 
 prologues to a bad voice ? y&AUZJl- UK- 
 
 Sec. Page. I’faith, i’faith; ancfbo^fu^a ifune, like two 
 gipsies on a horse. 
 
 I 
 
ACT V. SCENE IV. 
 
 73 
 
 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 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 spring time, &c. 
 
 :o 
 
 And therefore take the present time, 
 
 With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino; 
 
 For love is crowned with the prime 
 
 In spring time, &c. ^ C^aA uXfe WfA* 
 
 Touch. Truly, young gentlemen, though t here was no great 
 m atter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable. 
 
 First Page. You are deceived, sir: we kept time, we lost 
 not our time. 
 
 Touch. By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost to hear 
 such a foolish song. God be wi’ you; and God mend your 
 voices! Come, Audrey. [Exeunt. 
 
 
 Scene IV. The forest. 
 
 Enter Duke senior, Amiens, Jaques, Orlando, 
 Oliver, and Celia. 
 
 Duke S. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy 
 Can do all this that he hath promised ? 
 
 Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not; 
 As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. 
 
 ft*. Cc+ dL /StaJjL ' 
 
 
74 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Enter Rosalind, Silvius, and Phebe. 
 
 Ros. Patience once more, whiles our compact is urged: 
 You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, 
 
 You will bestow her on Orlando here? 
 
 Duke S. That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her. 
 Ros. And you say, you will have her, when I bring her ? 
 Or/. That would I, were I of all kingdoms king. io 
 Ros. You say, you’ll marry me, if I be willing? 
 
 Phe. That will I, should I die the hour after. 
 
 Ros. But if you do refuse to marry me, 
 
 You’ll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd? 
 
 Phe. So is the bargain. 
 
 Ros. You say, that you’ll have Phebe, if she will? 
 
 Sil. Though to have her and death were both one thing. 
 Ros. I have promised to make all this matter even. 
 Keep you your word, O duke, to give your daughter; 
 
 You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter: 20 
 
 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 S. L do .rpmember in this shepherd boy 
 Some lively toucnes of my daughter’s favour. 
 
 Orl. My lord, the first time that I ever sanv him 
 Methought he was a brother to your daughter: 
 
 But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born, 30 
 
 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. 
 
 Jaq. 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 called fools. 
 
ACT V. SCENE IV. 
 
 15 
 
 Touch. Salutation and greeting to you all! 
 
 Jaq. 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. 
 
 Touch. If any man doubt that, let him put me to my pur¬ 
 gation. I have trod a measure; I have flattered 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. 
 
 Jaq. And how was that ta’en up ? 
 
 Touch. Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the 
 seventh cause. 
 
 Jaq. How seventh cause? Good my lord, like this fellow. 
 
 Duke S. I like him very well. 5 1 
 
 Touch. 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-favoured thing, sir, but mine 
 own; a poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that no man 
 else will: rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house; 
 as your pearl in your foul oyster. 
 
 Duke S. By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. 
 
 Touch. According to the fool’s bolt, sir, ancUsuch^ dulcet 4 ^i/£ 4 )CO^ 
 diseases. / 9 -xrtr*. 61 
 
 Jaq. But, for the seventh cause; how did you find the 
 quarrel on the seventh cause ? 
 
 Touch. 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 called 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 called the Quip Modest. If again ‘ it was not well cut,’ he 
 disabledjuy judgement: this is called the Reply Churlish. If 
 tot well cut,’ he would answer, I spake not true : 
 the Reproof Valiant. If again ‘it was not well 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 cut, he would say, I lied : this is called the Countercheck 
 Quarrelsome: and so to the Lie Circumstantial and the Lie 
 Direct. ?6 
 
 Jaq. And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut ? 
 
 Touch. I duist go no further than the Lie Circumstantial, 
 nor he durst not give me the Lie Direct; and so we measured 
 swords and parted. 
 
 Jaq. Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the 
 
 lie > 
 
 82 
 
 Touch. 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 broth ers. Your If is the only peace-maker; much 
 virtue in If. ^uOAjl^ 95 
 
 Jaq. Is not! this a rare fellow, my lord ? he’s as good at 
 any thing and yet a fool. 
 
 Duke S. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse and under 
 the presentation of that he shoots his wit. 
 
 *tWMen7 Rosalind, and Celia. 
 Still Music. 
 
 Hym. 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. 
 
ACT V. SCENE IV. 
 
 77 
 
 Ros. [To duke] To you I give myself, for I am yours. 
 
 [ToOrL] To you I give myself, for I am yours. 109 
 
 Duke S. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter. 
 
 Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind. 
 
 Phe. If sight and shape be true, 
 
 Why then, my love adieu ! 
 
 Ros. 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. 
 
 Hym. Peace, ho ! I bar confusion: 
 
 ’Tis I must make conclusion' 
 
 Of these most strange events: 
 
 Here’s eight that must take hands 120 
 
 To join in Hymen’s bands, - . 
 
 If truth holds true c ontents. IM. 
 
 You and you no cross shall part: ** . 
 
 You and you are heart in heart: 
 
 You to his love must acco rd, Oj& xoa Qjb*As 4 JLodk', 
 
 Or have a woman to your lord: ^ 
 
 You and you are sure together, oJjfajjjL + \f 0 r j 
 
 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. 
 
 130 
 
 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 S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me! 
 Even daughter, welcome, in no less degree. 140 
 
 Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine ; 
 
 Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine . 
 
7 8 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Enter Jaques de Boys. 
 
 Jaq. de B. 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: i$o 
 
 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 restored to them again 
 That were with him exiled. This to be true, 
 
 I do engage my life. 
 
 Duke S. Welcome, young man; 
 
 Thou offer’st fairly to thy brothers’ wedding: 
 
 To one his lands withheld, and to the other 160 
 
 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 endured 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-fallen dignity 
 And fall into our rustic revelry. 
 
 Play, music! And you, brides and bridegrooms all, 170 
 With measure heap’d in joy, to the measures fall. 
 
 Jaq. Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly, 
 
 The duke hath put on a religious life 
 And thrown into neglect the pompous court? 
 
 Jaq de B. He hath. 
 
 Jaq. 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; 
 
ACT V. SCENE IV. 
 
 79 
 
 Your patience and your virtue well deserves it: 179 
 
 [To Or/.] You to a love that your true faith doth merit: 
 
 [To Oli.] You to your land and love and great allies : 
 
 [To Sil .] You to a long and well-deserved bed : 
 
 [To Touch.] And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage 
 Is but for two months victualled. So, to your pleasures: 
 
 I am for other than for dancing measures. 
 
 Duke S. Stay, Jaques, stay. 
 
 Jaq. To see no pastime I: what you would have 
 I’ll stay to know at your abandon’d cave. [Exit. 
 
 Duke S. Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites, 
 
 As we do trust they’ll end, in true delights. [A dance. 
 
 Epilogue. 
 
 Roj. 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. AVhat 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 furnished 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 simpering, 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 
 pleased me, complexions that liked 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. [Exeunt. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 The play was first printed in the folio of 1623, where it is divided into 
 Acts and Scenes. 
 
 I. upon this fashion , after this fashion. See ii. 4. 56. 
 
 1. 2. bequeathed me by will. This is the reading of the folios, in which 
 we may either understand ‘ bequeathed ’ as a participle or as the past tense. 
 In the latter case we must supply the nominative ‘ he ’ or ‘ my father.’ In 
 the former a stronger stop must be placed at ‘fashion.’ For instances of 
 the omission of the nominative see v. 4* 153 » Abbott, § 399 ; Hamlet, ii. 2. 
 67; Lear, ii. 4. 42, 293, &c., and the notes on those passages. Johnson 
 would put a full stop at ‘me.’ Warburton substitutes ‘my father’ for 
 * fashion.’ 
 
 2. poor a thousand. For this transposition of the indefinite article see 
 Abbott, § 422 ; The Tempest, iv. 1. 123, ‘ So rare a wonder’d father.’ 
 
 3. on his blessing, as a condition of obtaining his blessing. So Heywood, 
 The English Traveller (Works, iv. 49): ‘ This doe vpon my blessing.’ 
 Compare Othello, ii. 3. 178 : 
 
 ‘ Speak, who began this ? on thy love, I charge thee. 
 
 And better, Timon of Athens, iii. 5. 87 : 
 
 ‘ Urge it no more, 
 
 On height of our displeasure.’ 
 
 lb. to breed , to educate, bring up. Compare The Merchant of Venice, 
 
 ii. 1. 3: 
 
 ‘ The burnish’d sun, 
 
 To whom I am a neighbour and near bred.’ 
 
 And Measure for Measure, iv. 2. 135 : ‘A Bohemian born, but here nursed 
 up and bred.’ 
 
 4. Jaques. In the last scene where only he appears he is called ‘ Second 
 Brother ’ in the folios, to avoid confusion with the melancholy Jaques. 
 
 5. he beeps at school. For ‘ school,’ in the sense of university, compare 
 
 Hamlet, i. 2. 113 » 
 
 ‘ For your intent 
 
 In going back to school in Wittenberg, 
 
 It is most retrograde to our desire.’ 
 
 G 
 
NOTES. 
 
 l ACT I. 
 
 83 
 
 5. goldenly. Compare Macbeth, i. 7. 33: 
 
 ‘ He hath honour’d me of late; and I have bought 
 Golden opinions from all sorts of people.’ 
 
 Ib. profit, proficiency. 
 
 11. manage, the training and breaking in of a horse, from Fr, manege. 
 Compare 1 Henry IV, ii. 3. 52 : 
 
 ‘ Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed/ 
 
 And Richard II, iii. 3. 179. 
 
 Ib. dearly hired. For the omission of * are’ sec Hamlet, iii. 3. 62 : 
 
 ‘ But ’tis not so above; 
 
 There is no shuffling, there the action lies 
 In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd, 
 
 Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, 
 
 To give in evidence. 9 
 And Abbott, § 403. 
 
 13. the which. See The Tempest,:. 2. 137 ; Abbott, § 270. 
 
 15. countenance, favour, regard, patronage. Compare Coriolanus, v. 6. 40 : 
 
 ‘ He waged me with his countenance, as if 
 I had been mercenary.’ 
 
 And Hamlet, iv. 2. 16 : * Ay, sir, that soaks up the king’s countenance, his 
 rewards, his authorities.’ 
 
 16. hinds, servants (A.S. kina'), or farm-labourers. It is used still in the 
 North for a farm bailiff. Chaucer (Prologue, 1 . 603) spells the word ‘ hyne ’ * 
 
 ‘ Ther nas ballif, ne herde, ne other hyne, 
 
 That they ne knewe his sleight and his covyne.’ 
 
 Compare Merry Wives of Windsor, iii. 5. 99 : ‘A couple of Ford’s knaves, 
 his hinds, were called forth by their mistress to carry me in the name of 
 foul clothes to Datchet-lane.’ 
 
 Ib. bars me, excludes me from. 
 
 17. 18. mines my gentility, undermines the gentleness of my birth and 
 so destroys it. For ‘ mine ’ in this sense see Hamlet, iii. 4. 148 : 
 
 ‘ Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, 
 
 Infects unseen.’ 
 
 26. tvhat make you here? what do you here? As in Hamlet, i. 2. 164: 
 ‘And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?’ 
 
 For the play upon the words ‘make’ and ‘mar,’ and the two senses of 
 ‘make,’ compare Love’s Labour’s Lost, iv. 3;' 190-192 : 
 
 ‘ King. What makes treason here ? 
 
 Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir. 
 
 If it mar nothing neither, 
 
 The treason and you go in peace away together.’ 
 
 29. Marry, an exclamation, from the name of the Virgin Mary, used as 
 an oath. Here it keeps up a poor pun upon ‘ mar.’ 
 
sc. I.] AS you LIKE IT. 83 
 
 V./ 
 
 31, 32. be naught awhile, as explained by Warburton, ‘is only a north- 
 country proverbial curse, equivalent to a mischief on you.’ Mason supported 
 Warburton’s explanation by a reference to Ben Jonson’s Bartholomew Fair, 
 ii. I : ‘ Leave the bottle behind you, and be curs’d awhile.’ Gifford, in his 
 note on this last-mentioned passage, quotes further A Tale of a Tub, ii. 1 : 
 ‘Peace, and be naught !’ And Steevens refers to an instance of the whole 
 phrase in the old interlude of The Storie of King Darius (1565) : 
 
 ‘ Come away, and be nought awhyle, 
 
 Or surely I will you both defyle.* 
 
 33. Referring to Luke xv. The story of the prodigal son was exhibited in 
 puppet shows (see Winter’s Tale, iv. 3. 103), and was the subject of the 
 decorations of walls (2 Henry IV, ii. 1. 157). 
 
 34. what prodigal portion have I spent ? what portion have I prodigally 
 spent? See ii. 3. 39. 
 
 39. him I am before, he whom I am before. Compare The Tempest, v. 
 
 1.15: 
 
 ‘ But chiefly 
 
 Him that you term’d, sir, “ The good old Lord, 
 
 Gonzalo.” ’ 
 
 And Hamlet, ii. 1. 42. See Abbott, § 208. 
 
 41. The courtesy of nations. This expression led Theobald to conjecture 
 that ‘ courtesy ’ was the true reading in a very similar passage in Lear, i. 2.4: 
 
 ‘ Wherefore should I 
 
 Stand in the plague of custom, and permit 
 The curiosity of nations to deprive me, 
 
 For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines 
 Lag of a brother.’ 
 
 45. your coming before me is nearer to his reverence, the fact of your 
 being the eldest born brings you nearer in descent to our father, and so to 
 the respect due to him. 
 
 47. What, boy 7 Oliver attempts to strike him, and Orlando in return 
 seizes him by the throat. 
 
 48. too young, too raw and inexperienced in trials of strength. It occurs 
 in just the contrary sense in Much Ado about Nothing, v. r. 119; ‘Had 
 we fought, I doubt We should have been too young for them.’ 
 
 51. I am no villain, no serf or bondman; with a play on the other 
 meaning. See note on Lear, iii. 7. 79, and Lucrece, 1338: 
 
 4 The homely Villain courtesies to her low. 1 
 
 57. for your father's remembrance, for the sake of your father’s memory. 
 
 65. such exercises as may become a gentleman. Compare Two Gentle¬ 
 men of Verona, i. 3. 30-33; 
 
 ‘ There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, 
 
 Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen, 
 
 G ^ 
 
NOTES. 
 
 [act 1. 
 
 84 
 
 And be in eye of every exercise 
 Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth.’ 
 
 66. cillottery, portion. 
 
 Ib. testament, will. 
 
 67. go buy. See i. 2. 223, and Hamlet, i. 5. 132, and note: 
 
 ‘ And for my own poor part, 
 
 Look you, I’ll go pray.’ 
 
 77 - spoke. See Abbott, § 343, and note on Lear, i. 1. 228. 
 
 78. grow upon, encroach. Compare Julius Caesar, ii. 1. 107: 
 
 * Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises, 
 
 Which is a great way growing on the south.’ 
 
 79. rankness, luxuriant growth, exuberance ; hence, insolence. 
 
 82. wrestler, spelt ‘wrastler’ in the folios, and so pronounced. Cotgrave 
 (Fr. Diet.) gives ‘ Luicter, to wrastle, to struggle, or striue with.’ In the 
 Authorised Version of 1611 we find, Gen. xxx. 8, ‘ With great wrastlings 
 haue I wrastled with my sister, and I haue prevailed.’ In other passages 
 the modem spelling occurs, as I believe it does uniformly throughout the 
 Geneva Version of 1560. 
 
 95. good leave, ready permission. See Merchant of Venice, iii. 2. 326 : 
 
 ‘Since I have your good leave to go away, 
 
 I will make haste.’ 
 
 And I Henry IV, i. 3. 20 : 
 
 ‘You have good leave to leave us.’ 
 
 100. she. The first folio has * hee.’ 
 
 101. or have died to stay behind her ; that is, if forced to stay behind her. 
 See Abbott, § 356. 
 
 106. the forest of Arden. The scene is taken from Lodge’s novel. The 
 ancient forest of Ardennes gave its name to the department in the N.E. of 
 France on the borders of Belgium. 
 
 107. a many. Compare Henry V, iv. 1. 127 : ‘ Then I would he were 
 here alone; so should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men’s 
 lives saved.’ See note on Merchant of Venice, iii. 5. 53 (Clar. Press ed.), and 
 Abbott, § 87. 
 
 109. fleet the time, make it pass swiftly. An instance of Shakespeare’s 
 habit of forming verbs from adjectives. See note on ‘bold,’ Lear, v. I. 26. 
 
 no. the golden world, or the golden age. See Ovid, Met. i. 
 
 III. What. See above, line 47, and note on Leaf., i. 4. 326. 
 
 117. shall acquit him well, will have to acquit himself well. See v. I. II, 
 and Abbott, § 315. 
 
 121. intendment, intention, purpose. Compare Venus and Adonis, 222 i 
 * And now she weeps, and now she fain would speak, 
 
 And now her sobs do her intendments break.’ 
 
SC. I.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 85 
 
 And Henry V, i. 2. 144 : 
 
 ‘We do not mean the coursing snatchers only, 
 
 But fear the main intendment of the Scot.’ 
 
 126. by underhand means, because of the obstinacy which he attributes 
 to him. 
 
 128. it is the stubbornest. See. Compare Macbeth, i. 4. 58 : ‘ It is a peer¬ 
 less kinsman.’ There is here too something of the familiarity we observed 
 there, though in Oliver it is contemptuous. See iii. 5. 112, and Henry V, 
 iii. 6. 70, quoted below in note on line 134. 
 
 129. emulator, in a bad sense, as ‘emulation’ is used in Troilus and Cres- 
 sida, ii. 2. 212: 
 
 ‘Whilst emulation in the army crept.’ 
 
 And Julius Caesar, ii. 3. 14 : 
 
 ‘ My heart laments that virtue cannot live 
 Out of the teeth of emulation.’ 
 
 130. contriver, plotter. Compare Macbeth, iii. 5. 7^ 
 
 ‘ The close contriver of all harms.’ 
 
 And Julius Caesar, ii. 1. 158 : 
 
 * I think it is not meet 
 Mark Antony, so well beloved of Caesar, 
 
 Should outlive Caesar: we shall find of him 
 A shrewd contriver.’ 
 
 132. as lief, as gladly, as willingly. So Hamlet, iii. 2. 4: ‘I had as lief 
 the town-crier spoke my lines.’ 
 
 133. thou wert best. See-note on The Tempest, i. 2. 367* 
 
 134. gr ace himself on thee, get himself honour or reputation in the con¬ 
 test with thee. See v. 2. 52, and Henry V, iii. 6. 71 : ‘Why, ’tis a gull, a 
 fool, a rogue, that now and then goes to the wars, to grace himself at his 
 return into London under the form of a soldier.’ 
 
 135. practise, plot. See note on Lear, iii. 2. 
 
 140. anatomize, expose him, lay his faults bare. See ii. 7. 56. The first 
 and second folios have ‘ anathomize.’ 
 
 143. his payment, his punishment. Compare 1 Henry IV, ii. 4. 213: ‘I 
 have peppered two of them : two I am sure I have paid.’ 
 
 147. gamester, a young frolicsome fellow. See Henry VIII, i. 4. 45 : 
 ‘You are a merry gamester, my lord Sands.’ Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) has 
 * Ioueur : m. A player, gamester ; dallier, sporter.’ 
 
 148. than he, loosely used for ‘ than him.’ Compare Merry Wives of 
 Windsor, iv. 4. 87 : 
 
 ‘ And he my husband best of all affects.’ 
 
 So ‘who’ for ‘whom’ in The Tempest, i. 2. 80; Lear, i. 4. 26: ‘I 5 for 
 ‘ me ’ in this play, i. 2. 15 : ‘ we ’ for ‘ us ’ in Hamlet, i. 4. 54. 
 
 149. full of noble device, of noble conceptions and aims. 
 
8 6 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act i. 
 
 149. 150. In a copy of the fourth folio which formerly belonged to 
 Steevens, he has marked these lines as descriptive of Shakespeare himself. 
 
 150. of all sorts, of all classes. Compare ‘ all sorts and conditions of men. 
 76 . enchantingly, as if under the influence of a charm or fascination. 
 
 151. in the heart or affection. Compare Much Ado about Nothing, ii. 
 
 1. 328 : ‘ My cousin tells him in his ear that he is in her heart.’ 
 
 152. tnisprised, treated with contempt, despised. Fr. mepriser. See i. 
 
 2. 165, and compare Troilus and Cressida, iv. 5. 74 : 
 
 4 ’Tis done like Hector; but securely done, 
 
 A little proudly, and great deal misprizing 
 The knight opposed’: 
 
 where the folios read ‘ disposing.’ Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) gives ‘ Mespriser. 
 To disesteeme, contemne, disdaine, despise, neglect, make light of, set nought 
 by.’ 
 
 154. liindle, incite. Compare Macbeth, i. 3. 121: 
 
 4 That trusted home 
 
 Might yet enkindle you unto the crown.’ 
 
 76 . thither, that is, to the wrestling match. 
 
 J 55 - g° about, set about, attempt. See Much Ado about Nothing, i. 3. 
 12 : 4 1 wonder that thou, being, as thou sayest thou art, born under Saturn, 
 goest about to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief.’ 
 
 Scene 77 . « 
 
 I. sweet my coz. Compare ‘Good my brother,’ Hamlet, i. 3. 46; 
 ‘ sweet my mother,’ Romeo and Juliet, iii. 5. 200; Abbott, § 13. And for 
 ! coz ’ instead of ‘ cousin,’ see below, line 21, and Macbeth, iv. 2. 14 : ‘ My 
 dearest coz.’ 
 
 3. 4 1 ,’ omitted in the old copies, was inserted in Rowe’s second edition. 
 
 5. learn, teach. Compare The Tempest, i. 2. 366: 
 
 4 The red plague rid you 
 For learning me your language. 
 
 8. so, provided that. Compare Romeo and Juliet, iii. 5. 18: 
 
 ‘ I am content so thou wilt have it so.’ 
 
 The full phrase is ‘ be it so,’ as in Midsummer Night’s Dream, i. 1. 39; 
 
 * Be it so she will not here before your grace 
 Consent to marry with Demetrius.’ 
 
 II. so . . . as. Compare Macbeth, i. 2. 43: 
 
 4 So well thy words become thee as thy wounds.* 
 
 And Hamlet, ii. 1. 82 : 
 
 4 And with a look so piteous in purport 
 As if he had been loosed out of hell 
 To speak of horrors—he comes before me.’ 
 
 \Ve now use ‘ as . . . as,’ except in cases requiring special emphasis. 
 
SC. 2.] 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 «7 
 
 lb. tempered , composed. ‘To temper’ is to blend together the ingre- 
 dients of a compound. Compare Hamlet, v. 2. 339 : 
 
 ‘ It is a poison temper’d by himself.’ 
 
 And Cymbeline, v. 5. 250: 
 
 ‘ The queen, sir, very oft importuned me 
 
 To temper poisons for her.’ 
 
 Also Exodus xxix. 2 : ‘ Cakes unleavened tempered with oil.’ 
 
 15. but I. See below, 1 . 250, and compare ‘than he,’ i. I. 14S. 
 
 Ib. nor none. For the double negative see below, 1 . 24, ‘ nor no further 
 
 in sport neither.’ 
 
 16. like, likely. See iv. 1. 61. 
 
 18. render thee , give thee back, return thee. See u. 5* 24* 
 
 25. a pure blush, that has no shame in it. 
 
 Ib. come off, get off, escape, as from a contest. So Troilus and Cressida, 
 i. 3. 381: 
 
 * If the dull brainless Ajax come safe oft. 
 
 28. the good housewife Fortune. Compare Antony and Cleopatra, iv. 
 15. 44: 
 
 ‘No, let me speak; and let me rail so high, 
 
 That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel, 
 Provoked by my offence.’ 
 
 Johnson thought that Shakespeare has confused Fortune and her wheel with 
 the Destiny that spins the thread of life. The wheel of Fortune, however, 
 is not a spinning wheel but a rolling and unsteady thing, the symbol of her 
 own inconstancy. What Shakespeare understood by the ancient representa¬ 
 tions of Fortune he has made Captain Fluellen expound in Henry V, iii. 
 6. 32-40. Compare also Hamlet, ii. 2. 5 1 5 ~ 5 I 9 - 
 
 35. honest, virtuous. See Hamlet, iii. 1. 103, and below, iii. 3. 21. 
 
 36. ill-favouredly, in an ugly manner. See iii. 2. 244. The adjective 
 occurs in iii. 5 - 53 , and Genesis xli. 3, &c. For ‘favour’ as denoting 
 personal appearance, see iv. 3. 85; Richard II, iv. I. 168 ; Macbeth, 
 
 i. 5 * 73 - 
 
 39. "Enter Touchstone. In the folios it is ‘ Enter Clowne.’ 
 
 42*. flout, mock, scoff at. Compare Midsummer Night’s Dream, iii. 
 
 2 327 \ 
 
 ‘Why will you suffer her to flout me thus? 
 
 Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) gives ‘Brocarder. To quip, cut, gird^, reach ouer the 
 thummes ; least at; flout, mocke, scoffe, deride, or gibe at.’ 
 
 45. natural, an idiot. So The Tempest, iii. 2. 37 : ‘ That a monster 
 
 should be such a natural! ’ _ 
 
 48, 49. perceiveth . . . and hath sent. Malone inserted ‘ and. . The first 
 
 folio reads ‘ perceiveth,’ which was altered in the later folios into ‘ per¬ 
 ceiving,’ 
 
88 
 
 NOTES* 
 
 [act I. 
 
 49. to reason, to discourse, talk. So Merchant of Venice, ii. 8. 27: 
 
 ‘ I reason’d with a Frenchman yesterday.’ 
 
 50. whetstone of the wits. The title of Robert Recorded Arithmetic is 
 The Whetstone of Witte. 
 
 51. wit! whither wander you ? ‘Wit, whither wilt?’ was a proverbial 
 expression. See iv. 1. 145. 
 
 60, 61. and yet was not the knight forsworn. Boswell has shewn that the 
 joke, such as it is, occurs in the old play Damon and Pithias (Dodsly’s Old 
 English Plays, iv. 60, ed. Hazlitt) : 
 
 ‘ I haue taken a wise othe on him: have I not, trow ye, 
 
 To trust such a false knave upon his honestie ? 
 
 As he is an honest man (quoth you ?) he may bewray all to the 
 kinge, 
 
 And breke his oth for this never a whit.’ 
 
 75. The folios give this speech to Rosalind; Theobald assigned it to Celia. 
 Capell proposed to remove the difficulty by reading ‘Ferdinand’ for 
 ‘ Frederick’ in 1 . 74. In the folios the banished Duke is called in the stage 
 directions ‘ Duke Senior.’ 
 
 Ib. is enough to honour him: enough ! Hanmer’s reading. The folios 
 have ‘ is enough to honor him enough ; speake, &c.’ 
 
 76. taxation, satire, censure. For the verb ‘tax,’ see ii. 7. 71. ‘Taxing 
 occurs in ii. 7. 86. Compare Hamlet, i. 4. 18 : 
 
 ‘ This heavy-headed revel east and west 
 Makes us traduced and tax’d of other nations.’ 
 
 80. Perhaps referring to some recent inhibition of the players. See 
 Hamlet, ii. 2. 346. 
 
 Ib. troth, faith; A. S. treoiu' 5 . See iii, 2. 265. 
 
 85. will put on us, will pass off upon us, address us with, communicate to 
 us. Compare Measure for Measure, ii. 2. 133: 
 
 * Why do you put these sayings upon me ? ’ 
 
 Twelfth Night, v. 1. 70: 
 
 ‘ But in conclusion put strange speech upon me.’ 
 
 See also Hamlet, i. 3. 94. 
 
 91. colour is used for ‘ kind,’ ‘ nature,’ in Lear, ii. 2. 145 : 
 
 ‘This is a fellow of the self-same colour 
 Our sister speaks of’: 
 where the quartos actually read ‘ nature.’ 
 
 94. destinies decree. The folios have ‘ destinies decrees,’ one out of many 
 instances in which by a printer’s error an ‘s’ has been added to a word, and 
 by no means to be regarded as an example of the old northern plural in ‘ s,’ 
 which so far as Shakespeare is concerned is a figment of grammarians. See 
 i* 3 - 59 > ii* 7 * t 98> and Sidney Walker’s Critical Examination of the Text 
 of Shakespeare, Art. xxxviii. 
 
SC. 2.] 
 
 YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 89 
 
 95. laid on with a trowel, coarsely, clumsily; as gross flattery is said to be. 
 
 96. if I keep not my rank. The jest is repeated in Cymbeline, ii. I. 17 : 
 
 ‘ Clo. Would he had been one of my rank ! 
 
 Sec. Lord [Aside]. To have smelt like a fool.’ 
 
 98. amaze, confound, confuse. The word ‘ amazement was originally 
 applied to denote the confusion of mind produced by any strong emotion, as 
 in Mark xiv. 33 : * and began to be sore amazed, and to be very heavy.’ 
 
 102, 103. is yet to do, or to be done. For this use of the infinitive active 
 
 compare The Tempest, iii. 2.106: 
 
 4 And that most deeply to consider is 
 The beauty of his daughter.’ 
 
 Othello, 1. 2.19 : ‘’Tis yet to know.’ Twelfth Night, iii. 3. 18: ‘What’s 
 to do ? ’ 
 
 106. There comes. See v. 2. 67 and Abbott § 335. 
 
 108. proper, handsome. See iii. 5* 5 1, sense parents of 
 
 Moses saw that he was ‘ a proper child,’ Hebrews xi. 23. 
 
 110. With bills on their necks. Farmer would make these words part of 
 Le Beau’s speech, and Dyce adopted the arrangement. For the phrase ‘ on 
 their necks,’Farmer quotes from Lodge’s novel, ‘ Thus perplexed lived poore 
 Ganimede, while on a day, sitting with Aliena in a great dumpe, she cast up 
 her eye, and saw where Rosader came pacing towardes them with his forrest 
 bill on his necke ’ (p. 84). The same play upon the two senses of the word 
 ‘bill’ occurs in Much Ado about Nothing, iii. 3 * * 9 * • 4 are ^e to 
 prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of these men s bills. And 
 2 Henry VI, iv. 7.135 : ‘ My lord, when shall we go to Cheapside and take 
 up commodities upon our bills ?’ 
 
 117. dole, grief, lamentation; Fr. denil. So Hamlet, i. 2. 13: 
 
 4 In equal scale weighing delight and dole.’ 
 
 126. I promise thee, I assure thee. See The Merchant of Venice, iii. 5. 3 : 
 
 ‘ Therefore, I promise ye, I fear you.’ 
 
 127. any, any one. So in Measure for Measure, i. I. 23: 
 
 * If any in Vienna be of worth 
 To undergo such ample grace and honour, 
 
 It is Lord Angelo.’ 
 
 And Henry V, iv. 3. 66 : 
 
 4 And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks 
 That fought with us upon Saint Crispin s day. 
 
 Compare ‘ every,’ v. 4. 164. 
 
 lb. see. Theobald, after Warburton, read ‘ set.’ 
 
 Ib. broken music, was first explained by Mr. Chappell (Popular Music of 
 the Olden Time, p. 246) as the music of a string band. But he has since 
 altered his opinion, and has kindly favoured me with the following explana¬ 
 tion. Some instruments, such as viols, violins, flutes, &c., were formerly 
 
9 o 
 
 NOTES, 
 
 [act I. 
 
 made in sets of four, which when played together formed a * consort.’ If 
 one or more of the instruments of one set were substituted for the cor¬ 
 responding ones of another set, the result was no longer a ‘ consort 5 but 
 ‘ broken music.’ The expression occurs in Henry V, v. 2. 263: * Come, 
 your answer in broken music; for thy voice is music, and thy English 
 broken.’ And Bacon, Essay xxxvii. p. 156 : ‘I understand it, that the Song 
 be in Quire, placed aloft, and accompanied with some broken Musicke.’ 
 
 135. entreated, prevailed upon by entreaty, persuaded. 
 
 139. successfully, as if he would win. The adverb is similarly used for 
 the adjective in The Tempest, iii. I. 32 : ‘You look wearily.’ 
 
 144. such odds in the man, such advantage on the side of the wrestler 
 Charles. There is no necessity for changing ‘ man’ to ‘ men ’ with Hanmer. 
 For ‘ odds ’ in the sense of advantage or superiority compare Love’s Labour’s 
 Lost, i. 2. 183: ‘Cupid’s butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules’ club; and 
 therefore too much odds for a Spaniard’s rapier.’ 
 
 149. the princess calls. This is the reading of the folios, which was 
 changed by Theobald to ‘ the princesses call,’ on account of what Orlando 
 says, ‘ I attend them &c.’ But it is Celia who gives the order, and it may 
 be that Orlando in his reply is thinking of Rosalind, and is made to say 
 ‘them’ designedly. In either case there is a difficulty. For if ‘ princess’ is 
 for ‘ princesses ’ as Sidney Walker and Dyce held (see The Tempest, i. 2.173> 
 and below, ii. 2. 10), then ‘ calls ’ is an error of the scribe or printer. 
 
 159,160. your eyes . . . your judgement. Hanmer, adopting Warburton’s 
 conjecture, read ‘ our eyes . . . our judgement.’ But the meaning is, ‘ If 
 you used the senses and reason which you possess.’ 
 
 165. misprised. See i. 1. 152. 
 
 166. might, used for ‘may,’ as in Hamlet, i. 1. 77 * 
 
 168. wherein. Johnson proposed ‘ therein,’and M. Mason ‘ herein.’ The 
 construction is loose, and we must supply as antecedent some such expression 
 as ‘ in this business,’ or as Malone suggests ‘ of my abilities.’ Knight takes 
 ‘wherein’ as equivalent to ‘because’ or ‘in that,’ and the ‘hard thoughts’to 
 refer not to what the ladies had already said, but to what they might think 
 of him for refusing their request. This would make very good sense, but it is 
 not the meaning of ‘ wherein.’ Mr. Spedding would omit ‘ wherein ’ altogether. 
 
 Ib. me, used as a reflexive pronoun. Abbott, § 223. 
 
 Ib. much guilty. ‘ Much’ by itself is not now commonly used with adjec¬ 
 tives. Compare 2 Henry IV, iv. 4. ill: ‘I am much ill.’ And Timon of 
 Athens, iii. 4. 30: ‘ ’Tis much deep.’ 
 
 171. gracious, looked upon with favour. So 3 Henry VI, iii. 3.117 : 
 
 ‘But is he gracious in the people’s eye?’ 
 
 174. only in the world, See. ‘ Only’ is here transposed, as in v. 3. II. 
 We should say ‘ I only fill up a place in the world.’ 
 
 185. working, operation, endeavour. Compare 2 Henry IV, iv. 2. 22 : 
 
EC. 2 .] 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 9 1 
 
 * The very opener and intelligencer 
 Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven 
 And our dull workings.’ 
 
 190. You mean to mock me after. Theobald conjectured ‘An you’; 
 Mason ‘ If you.’ The former reading is very plausible, as it may easily have 
 been corrupted by the printers, who regarded ‘ Orl. And ’ as part of the stage 
 direction ‘ Orland.’ But no change is absolutely necessary. 
 
 191. come your ways, come on. For other instances of this see ii. 3 ’ 
 
 iv. 1.158, and note on The Tempest, ii. 2. 76. ‘ Ways’ is the old genitive 
 
 used adverbially as Germ, weges. 
 
 191. thy speed, thy good fortune; A. S. sped. 
 
 197. who should down. For the ellipsis of the verb of motion before an 
 adverb of direction see Hamlet, iii. 3. 4; 
 
 ‘ And he to England shall along with you.’ 
 
 Julius Caesar, iii. 1.119 : ‘ Shall we forth? ’ 
 
 199, 200. I am not yet well breathed, am not yet in full breath, have 
 not got my wind. Compare Fr. mis en haleine, and Love’s Labour’s Lost, 
 
 v. 2. 659; 
 
 ‘ A man so breathed, that certain he would fight; yea 
 From morn till night.’ 
 
 205. Rowland. The first folio has ‘ Roland. 
 
 209. still, constantly. See note on The Tempest, i. 2. 229 ; ‘ The still- 
 vex’d Bermoothes.’ 
 
 210. shouldst. We should now use ‘wouldst’ in such a clause. See 
 Merchant of Venice, i. 2. 100 : ‘You should refuse to perform your father’s , 
 will, if you should refuse to accept him.’ 
 
 216. calling, appellation, name. 
 
 220. linown this young man his son, that is, to be his son. Compare Two 
 
 Gentlemen of Verona, v. 2. 21 ; 
 
 ‘ She needs not, when she knows it cowardice.’ 
 
 221. unto, in addition to. Compare Macbeth, iii. 1. 52 : 
 
 ‘And to that dauntless temper of his mind 
 He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour.’ 
 
 223. go thank. See i. I. 67. 
 
 225. sticks me at heart, stabs me to the heart. See Troilus and Cressida, 
 iii. 2. 202 : ‘ To stick the heart of falsehood.’ Others take ‘ stick in the 
 
 sense of ‘ to be fixed.’ ^ 
 
 227. justly, exactly. Compare the use of ‘ righteously,’ above, 1 .11.^ 
 
 Ib. all. Omitted by Capell. Sidney Walker conjectured * excell’d ’ for 
 ‘ exceeded.’ Hanmer read ‘ as you’ve here exceeded promise.’ 
 
 229. out of suits with fortune, not wearing the livery of fortune, out of 
 her service. Or it may mean one to whose entreaties fortune grants no 
 favours, with a play upon the other meaning of the word. 
 
9 2 NOTES. [act i. 
 
 230. could give more, would willingly give more. Antony says of Fulvia, 
 Antony and Cleopatra, i. 2. 131: 
 
 f She’s good, being gone; 
 
 The hand could pluck her back that shoved her on.’ 
 
 232. my better parts. Compare Macbeth, v. 8.18 : 
 
 ‘ Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, 
 
 For it hath cow’d my better part of man! ’ 
 
 234. a quintain. The spelling of the folios is ‘ quintine.’ Hasted, in 
 his History of Kent (ii. 224), says, ‘ On Of ham green there stands a Quintin, 
 a thing now rarely to be met with, being a machine much used in former 
 times by youth, as well to try their own activity as the swiftness of their 
 horses in running at it. . . . The cross-piece of it is broad at one end, and 
 pierced full of holes ; and a bag of sand is hung at the other and swings round, 
 on being moved with any blow. The pastime was for the youth on horseback 
 to run at it as fast as possible, and hit the broad part in his career with much 
 force. He that by chance hit it not at all, was treated with loud peals of 
 derision; and he who did hit it, made the best use of his swiftness, least he 
 should have a sound blow on his neck from the bag of sand, which instantly 
 swang round from the other end of the quintin. The great design of this 
 sport was to try the agility both of horse and man, and to break the board, 
 which whoever did, he was accounted chief of the day’s sport.’ In Brand’s 
 Popular Antiquities (ii. 163, 164, Bohn’s Antiq. Library), where the above 
 passage is quoted, it is stated, on the authority of Bishop Kennett, that run¬ 
 ning at the quintain was a favourite sport at country weddings in Oxford¬ 
 shire as late as the end of the seventeenth century. (See Kennett’s Parochial 
 Antiquities, pp. 18, 19; Plot’s Natural History of Oxfordshire, p. 204.) 
 Fitzstephen, quoted by Stow (Brand, Pop. Ant. i. 177), gives an account of 
 an Easter amusement of his time which was a kind of water quintain. 
 The quintain described by Strutt (Sports and Pastimes, iii. 1) ‘ was in 
 the likeness of a Turk or a Saracen, armed at all points, bearing a shield 
 upon his left arm, and brandishing a club or a sabre with his right.’ In 
 this case the object was to strike the figure in such a manner as to prevent it 
 from swinging round and striking the tilter with the sabre. There is given 
 in Du Cange a Low Latin word, Quintana, which is found in Italian in the 
 same form, and in French as quintaine. Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) gives a further 
 modification: ‘Quintaine: f. A Quintane (or Whintane) for countrey 
 youthes to runne at.’ Mr. Skeat has pointed out to me a passage in 
 Chaucer (Prologue to Manciple’s Tale, 1 . 16974, Percy Soc. ed.) : 
 
 ‘Now, swete sir, wol ye joust atte fan?’ 
 where the fan is the quintain. The game is supposed to have come down 
 to us as the representative of the ancient palaria or exercises of the Roman 
 soldiery, and if so it may have derived its name from quintana, the principal 
 street of the camp, where the market was held. Roberts, in his Cambrian 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 93 
 
 SC. 2.] 
 
 Popular Antiquities, claims for the game a Welsh origin, and for the word 
 a Welsh etymology, deriving it from gwyntyn, a vane, which, however, is 
 not a word recognised in any Welsh dictionary to which I have had. access. 
 
 234. lifeless. The first folio has ‘ liuelesse,’ as in all the other passages in 
 which the word occurs. 
 
 239. Have with you, come along. See Othello, i. 2. 53» an< ^ compare 
 Hamlet, i. 4. 89, ‘ Have after.’ 
 
 247. condition, temper, frame of mind, disposition. Compare Richard III, 
 iv. 4. 157: 
 
 f Madam, I have a touch of your condition, 
 
 Which cannot brook the accent of reproof.’ 
 
 And Lyly, Euphues and his England (ed. Arber), p. 340: ‘ In compaction of 
 pure sanguine, in condition a right Sainte.’ 
 
 248. misconstrues. The folios spell it * misconsters, as it was pronounced. 
 
 249. humorous, capricious. Compare 2 Henry IV, iv. 4* 34 * 
 
 ‘ As humorous as winter, and as sudden 
 As flaws congealed in the spring of day.’ 
 
 250. I. See above, 1 . 15. 
 
 255. lesser. This is Mr. Spedding’s conjecture for the reading of the 
 folios ‘taller,’ which is obviously wrong. Pope read ‘shorter,’ Malone 
 ‘ smaller,’ Staunton ‘ lower.’ In i. 3. 112, Rosalind*'says of herself, ‘ Because 
 that I am more than common tall,’ and in iv. 3 * 86, 87 > Celia is identified 
 by Oliver as 
 
 ‘ the woman low 
 And brow.ner than her brother.’ 
 
 Possibly the error was one of the author rather than of the printer. 
 
 262. argument , cause, occasion. See iii. 1. 3 > an ^ compare Hamlet, 
 iv. 4. 54: 
 
 ‘ Rightly to be great 
 Is not to stir without great argument.’ 
 
 265. on my life. Compare Winter’s Tale, v. 1. 43: 
 
 * Who, on my life, 
 
 Did perish with the infant.’ 
 
 267. in a better world, in a better age or state of things. See i. I. no, 
 * the golden world’; and Richard II, iv. 1. 78 • 
 
 ‘ As I intend to thrive in this new world.’ 
 
 Also, Coriolanus, iii. 3 - T 35 : 
 
 ‘ There is a world elsewhere.’ 
 
 269. I rest. Compare Macbeth, i. 6. 20 : ‘ We rest your hermits.’ 
 
 Ib. bounden, obliged. Compare King John, iii. 3. 29: 
 
 ‘I am much bounden to your Majesty.’ 
 
 270. from the smoke into the smother, out of the frying-pan into the fife. 
 ‘ Smother ’ is the thick stifling smoke of a smouldering fire. Bacon uses * to 
 
94 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act I. 
 
 pass in smother’ for ‘to be stifled,’ in Essay xxvii. p. 112; and ‘ to keep in 
 smother’ for ‘ to stifle,’ in Essay xxxi. p. 134. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 11. for my child's father, my husband that is to be. Rowe, from prudish 
 motives, altered this to * my father’s child,’ and the change was approved by 
 Coleridge. 
 
 12. this working-day world, this common condition of things. Compare 
 Antony and Cleopatra, i. 2. 55 : ‘Prithee, tell her but a worky-day fortune.’ 
 
 16. coat, used of a woman’s garment, as in the Authorised Version of 
 Canticles, v. 3. 
 
 18. Hem them away. So Much Ado about Nothing, v. 1. 16: ‘Cry hem 
 when he should groan.’ 
 
 25. on such a sudden, so suddenly. Shakespeare uses ‘ on a sudden,’ ‘ of a 
 sudden, and ‘ on the sudden,’ elsewhere, but not ‘ on such a sudden.’ 
 
 31. hated his father dearly, excessively. Compare Hamlet, iv. 3. 43 : 
 
 ‘ As we dearly grieve 
 For that which thou hast done.’ 
 
 34. doth he not deserve well ? that is, to be hated. Rosalind takes the 
 words in another sense. 
 
 38. With yotir safest haste, with speed which is your best security. 
 
 39. cousin, used for ‘ niece,’ as in Twelfth Night, i. 3. 1, 5, Sir Toby 
 exclaims, ‘ What a plague means my niece.’ And Maria in her answer says, 
 ‘Your cousin, my lady.’ See Hamlet, i. 2. 64. 
 
 40. be'st. See note on The Tempest (Clar. Press ed.), ii. 2. 91. 
 
 50. purgation, exculpation. See Winter’s Tale, iii. 2.7: 
 
 ‘ Let us be clear’d 
 
 Of being tyrannous, since we so openly 
 Proceed in justice, which shall have due course, 
 
 Even to the guilt or the purgation.’ 
 
 54. the likelihood, the probability of my being a traitor. The first folio 
 has ‘ likelihoods,’ another instance of a common error in that volume to 
 which attention has been called in the note on i. 2. 93. 
 
 62. To think, as to think. For the omission of ‘ as’ compare Merchant 
 of Venice, iii. 3. 10 : 
 
 ‘I do wonder, 
 
 Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond 
 To come abroad with him at his request.’ 
 
 Lear, i, 4. 40, 4I ; ii. 4. 278, 279. Abbott, § 281. 
 
 67. remorse, tender feeling, compassion* not compunction. See The 
 Tempest, v. 1. 76 : 
 
 4 You, brother mine, that entertain’d ambition, 
 
 Expell’d remorse and nature.’ 
 
sc . $.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 95 
 
 68. that time , at that time, then. Compare Antony and Cleopatra, li. 5. 
 
 18; . 
 
 ‘ That time—O times !— 
 
 I laughed him out of patience.’ 
 
 See Abbott, § 202, 
 
 70. still. See i. 2. 209. 
 
 72. Juno’s swans. No commentator appears to have made any remark 
 upon this, but it may be questioned whether for ‘ Juno ’ we ought not. to 
 read ‘Venus,’ to whom, and not to Juno, the swan was sacred. In Ovids 
 Metam. x. 708, 717, 718, the same book which contains the story ot 
 Atalanta, who is mentioned in this play, and of Adonis, Venus is represented 
 in a chariot drawn by swans. 
 
 75. patience, a trisyllable, as in Much Ado about Nothing, v. I. 280 . 
 
 ‘ I know not how to pray your patience.’ 
 
 78. show, appear. Compare Merchant of Venice, ii. 2. 193 ' 
 
 ‘But where thou art not known, why, there they show 
 Something too liberal!’ 
 
 And for the thought, Antony and Cleopatra, ii. 3* ‘ 
 
 * Thy lustre thickens, 
 
 When he shines by.’ 
 
 Delius quotes from Lodge’s novel (Collier’s Shakespeare’s Library, i. 29) . 
 
 ‘ thou, fond girlc, measurest all by present affection, and as thy heart 
 loves, thy thoughts censure; but if thou knowest that in liking Rosalynd 
 thou hatchest up a bird to pecke out thine owne eyes, thou wouldst intreat 
 as much for hir absence as now thou delightest in her presence.’ 
 
 90. Thou hast not, cousin. To mend the metre Steevens proposed to read 
 * Indeed, thou hast not, cousin ’; but in cases where a line is divided between 
 two speeches the metre is frequently faulty either by excess or defect. 
 
 93. No, hath not? This is the punctuation of the folios, and is essen¬ 
 tially the same as that of Rowe, who put a note of interrogation at ‘ No.’ 
 Singer would read ‘No hath not’ as an exclamation, regarding it as an 
 example of an idiom of which Mr. Arrowsmith (Notes and Queries, 1st ser. 
 vii. k 20) gives several instances, such as ‘No had?’ for ‘Had you not. 
 ‘No does?’for ‘Does it not?’ ‘No dyd?’ for ‘Did you not’? ‘No will? 
 for * Will you not?’ ‘ No could ye?’ for ‘ Could ye not ?’ but it will be at 
 once seen that the addition of the second negative in ‘ No hath not ’ makes 
 this phrase unlike the others. 
 
 94. Which teacheth thee that tkttc and I am one. Theobald mended 
 what he considered was faulty in sense and grammar by reading ‘ me for 
 ‘thee’ and ‘ are ’ for ‘ am.’ Johnson considered the former change unneces¬ 
 sary; for, said he, ‘where would be the absurdity of saying, You know 
 not the law which teaches you to do right?’ No one would now.think 
 of writing, ‘ thou and I am,’ but as it is an instance of a construction of 
 
<)& 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act 1 . 
 
 frequent occurrence in Shakespeare’s time, by which the verb is attracted to 
 the nearest subject, it should not be altered. See Ben Jonson, The Fox, ii. 
 I : ‘ Take it or leave it, howsoever, both it and I am at your service.’ And 
 Cynthia’s Revels, i. I : ‘ My thoughts and I am for this other element, 
 water.’ 
 
 98. bear, carry, take. So in Comedy of Errors, i. 2. 9, giving money to 
 Dromio, Antipholus says : 
 
 ‘ Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host.’ 
 
 99. change, change of condition, altered fortunes. So the first folio. 
 The later folios read ‘ charge,’ that is, the burden attaching to such an 
 altered condition. 
 
 109. umber , a brown colour or pigment, said to be so called from Umbria 
 where it was first found. 
 
 Ib. smirch, to besmear, and so darken. The second folio reads ‘ smitch,’ 
 the third and fourth ‘smutch.’ ‘ Smeech,’ ‘smutch,’ and ‘smudge’ are 
 other forms of the same word, and are originally connected with ‘ smear.’ 
 Nares regards ‘ smirch ’ as a corruption of ‘ smutch,’ but the contrary is 
 more probable. In Much Ado about Nothing, iv. 1. 135, 
 
 ‘Who smirched thus and mired with infamy,’ 
 
 ‘smirched’ is the reading of the quarto; the folios have ‘ smeered * or 
 ‘ smeer’d.’ ‘Smirched’ occurs besides in Much Ado about Nothing, iii. 3., 
 145, and Henry V, iii. 3. 17; and ‘unsmirched’ is used for ‘unsullied* in 
 Hamlet, iv. 5. 119 : ‘the chaste unsmirched brow.’ 
 
 Ill, &c. Compare Rosalind’s speech in Lodge’s novel (p. 32): ‘I (thou 
 seest) am of a tall stature, and would very wel become the person and ap¬ 
 parel of a page : thou shalt bee my mistresse, and I wil play the man so 
 properly, that (trust me) in what company so ever I come I wil not be 
 discovered. 1 wil buy me a suite, and 'have my rapier very handsomly at 
 my side, and if any knave offer wrong, your page wil shew him the poynt 
 of his weapon.' 
 
 113. suit me, dress myself. Compare Cymbeline, v. I. 23 : 
 
 ‘ I’ll disrobe me 
 
 Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself 
 As does a Briton peasant.’ 
 
 And Lear, iv. 7 * 6. 
 
 Ib. all points, in all points. For the omission of the preposition in such 
 adverbial phrases see iii. 1.2: 
 
 ‘But were I not the better part made mercy.’ 
 
 114. curtle-axe, a ctltlas. The termination is an instance of a frequent 
 corruption by which a Word is altered so as to correspond to a supposed 
 etymology. Other forms of the word, due to the same tendency, are ‘ cut- 
 lace’ and ‘ cutlash.’ A curtle-axe was not an axe at all, but a short sword. 
 The Word is fotmed from a diminutive of the Latin cultellus. Florio (It. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 97 
 
 sc. 3.] 
 
 Diet.) has ‘ Coltellaccio, a cutleaxe, a hanger.’ Cotgrave gives ‘ Coutelas: 
 m. A Cultelas, Courtelas, or short sword, for a man at armes.’ Compare 
 Fairfax, Tasso, ix. 82 : 
 
 * His curtlax by his thigh, short, hooked, fine.’ 
 
 And Henry V, iv. 2. 21 : 
 
 ‘ Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins 
 To give each naked curtle-axe a stain.’ 
 
 Again Lodge in his novel, ‘To the Gentlemen Readers,’ says, ‘Heere you 
 may perhaps finde some leaves of Venus mirtle, but hewen down by a 
 souldier with his curtlaxe.’ Spenser, supposing the weapon to be a short 
 axe, wrote (Faery Queene, iv. 2. 42) : 
 
 ‘ But speare and curtaxe both vsd Priamond in field.’ 
 
 In Du Bartas, Historic of Judith (trans. Hudson), book 2, p. 16 (ed. 1611), 
 the word appears in the form ‘ curtlasse’: 
 
 ‘ And with a trembling hand the curtlasse drewe.’ 
 
 117. swashing, blustering, swaggering. Forby in his Vocabulary of East 
 Anglia gives ‘Swash, v. To affect valour; to vapour or swagger’; and the 
 adjective ‘ Swashy.’ The word is undoubtedly an imitative word. To 
 swash is to strike a noisy blow. In Baret’s Alvearie we find, ‘ to swash, or 
 to make a noise with swordes against targets. Concrepare gladijs ad scuta.’ 
 Hence a swashbuckler is a swaggerer. Florio (It. Diet.) gives, ‘ Brauazzo, 
 a roister, swashbuckler, a swaggerer, a flanter.’ 
 
 118. mannish, masculine. So in Troilus and Cressida, iii. 217 : 
 
 * A woman impudent and mannish grown.’ 
 
 Compare Beaumont and Fletcher, Love’s Cure, ii. 2: ‘For she’s as much 
 too mannish, as he too womanish.’ And Sidney, Arcadia, p. 58 (ed. 1598): 
 ‘Yet altogether seemed not to make up that harmony, that Cupid delights 
 in, the reason whereof might seeme a mannish countenance, which ouer- 
 threw that louely sweetenesse, the noblest power of womankinde.’ 
 
 119. outface it. See Lear, iv. 1. 54: ‘I cannot daub it further.’ For 
 this indefinite use of‘it’ see v. 2. 56, and Abbott, § 226. 
 
 122. Ganymede. These assumed names are taken from the novel, p. 32 : 
 ‘Alinda being called Aliena, and Rosalynd Ganimede, they traveiled along 
 the vineyardes.’ 
 
 125. Aliena, with the accent on the second syllable. 
 
 126. assay'd, tried, endeavoured. So Venus and Adonis, 608: 
 
 * She hath assay’d as much as may be proved.’ 
 
 134. go we in. So the second and later folios. The first folio has ‘go 
 in we,’ in which case ‘ content ’ must be taken as an adjective. 
 lb, content , contentment. Compare Henry VIII, ii. 3. 20: 
 
 ‘ I swear, ’tis better to be lowly born, 
 
 And range with humble livers in content,’ 
 
 H 
 
9 S 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act ii. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene 7 . 
 
 I. exile , with the accent on the last syllable, as in Richard II, i. 3 * 15 * • 
 'The dateless limit of thy dear exile.’ 
 
 But Shakespeare also uses it with the accent on the first syllable, in accord¬ 
 ance with modern custom. See Coriolanus, v. 3 * 45 • 
 
 'Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge.’ 
 jjgyg feel we but the penalty of Adam. The folios read not for 
 ‘but,’ which is Theobald’s conjectural emendation. A similar instance of the 
 interchange of 4 not’ and 4 but,’ which is not infrequent, occurs in Coriolanus, 
 
 ii. 3. 73, where the folios read, 
 
 4 2. Cit. Your owne desert. 
 
 Corio. I, but mine owne desire.’ 
 
 Rowe corrected this to 4 Ay, not mine own desire.’ Again, in Troilus and 
 Cressida, iv. I. 78, the quarto and folios have 4 We’ll not commend what we 
 intend to sell.’ Jackson substituted 4 but’ for ‘ not.’ The Duke contrasts the 
 happiness and security of their forest life with the perils of the envious court. 
 Their only suffering was that which they shared with all descendants of 
 Adam, 4 the seasons’ difference’; for in the golden age of Paradise there was, 
 as Bacon phrases it, 4 a spring all the year long.’ The old reading has not 
 wanted defenders. Whiter maintained that ‘the penalty of Adam ’ was the 
 curse of labour, from which the Duke and his companions were free. He 
 therefore punctuates as follows: 
 
 4 Here feel we not the penalty of Adam; 
 
 The seasons’ difference, as, &c. 
 
 . . . . these are counsellors, &c. 
 
 There is a certain consistency in this which cannot be claimed by Boswell, 
 who says, 4 Surely the old reading is right. Here we feel not, do not suffer, 
 from the penalty of Adam, the season’s difference; for when the winter’s 
 wind blows upon my body, I smile, and say—.* If the blank thus left by 
 Boswell were filled up it would just contradict what he had said before— 
 
 4 These are counsellors 
 That feelingly persuade me what I am.’ 
 
 The Duke’s senses therefore did make him conscious that he was man, 
 though what he felt was only 4 the seasons’ difference.’ Milton has the same 
 idea of the change of seasons after the Fall. See Paradise Lost, x. 678, 9 : 
 
 ‘Else had the spring 
 
 Perpetual smiled on earth with vernant flowers.’ 
 
 6. as, as for instance. See iv. 3. 140. Compare Merchant of Venice, 
 
 iii. 2, 109: 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 99 
 
 sc. i.] 
 
 ' How all the other passions fleet to air, 
 
 As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair, 
 
 And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy!’ 
 
 13, 14. Which, like the toad, &c. The real toadstone, as known to the 
 ancients, was apparently so called from its resemblance to the toad or frog in 
 colour. Pliny says (xxxvii. 10, p. 625, trans. Holland), ‘The same Coptos 
 sendeth other stones unto us besides, to wit, those which be called Batra- 
 chitae; the one like in colour to a frog, a second unto yvorie, the third is of a 
 blackish red.’ Besides this slight reference to the Batrachites, says Mr. King 
 in his Natural History of Gems and Decorative Stones, pp. 43-46, ‘No 
 further notice of this stone can be traced in the other writers of antiquity. 
 But this singular epithet, primarily intended only to denote the peculiar 
 colour of the stone, furnished later times with the foundation for a most 
 marvellous fable, which long obtained, as the number of examples still 
 preserved attest, universal credit throughout Europe. Understanding the 
 ancient term as implying the natural production of the animal according to 
 the analogy of other similar names, as the Saurites, Echites, Sec. doctors 
 taught that the “ toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his 
 head.” A full account of this will be found in that repertory of mediaeval 
 medical lore, the ‘ Speculum Lapidum ’ of Camillo, who, as physician to 
 Borgia, ought to know something about poisons. He describes it by the 
 names of Borax, Nosa, and Crapondinus, and as being found in the brains of 
 a newly-killed toad. There are two kinds, the white, which is the best, and 
 the dark with a bluish tinge with the figure of an eye upon it. If swallowed 
 it was a certain antidote against poison, in its passage through the bowels 
 
 driving out all noxious matters before it. Many Toad-stones are still 
 
 preserved in collections of mediaeval jewels, set in silver rings, the metal 
 appropriate seemingly to that purpose, being generally prescribed for the 
 setting of all amulets. I have lately had an opportunity of examining 
 several of these toad-stones, some in their original settings, some extracted. 
 They are hemispherical, elliptical, or oval, hollow within, of an apparently 
 petrified bony substance, whity brown, or variegated with darker shades. 
 The true, but very recent explanation of their origin is, that they were the 
 bony embossed plates lining the palate or the jaws, and serving instead of 
 teeth to a fossil fish, an arrangement observable in the recent representa¬ 
 tions of the same species.’ Erasmus, in his Peregrinatio Religionis ergo, 
 quoted by Mr. King, describes a famous toadstone which was at the feet of 
 the image of the Virgin at Walsingham and had a symbolical significance. 
 In one of the additions of Batman to Bartholome De Proprietatibus rerum 
 (fol. 351 b), is an account which requires some amount of faith to accept. 
 ‘ Bufo the Toade, whereof are diuers kindes: some Toads that breed in 
 Italy and about Naples, haue in theyr heads, a stone called a Crapo, of 
 bignes like a big peach, but flat, of colour gray, with a browne spot in the 
 
 H 2 
 
ICO 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act 1!. 
 
 midst, said to be of vertue. In times past, they were much worne, and vsed 
 in ringes, as the forewarning against venime.’ In this account ‘ peach ’ is 
 probably a misprint for ‘ pease,’ for in the index we find as the description of 
 the contents of the chapter from which the above is taken, 4 Of the Rubeta 
 or Frog and of the toades stone, as big as a pease, and not as a peach.’ 
 Compare Lyly’s Euphues (ed. Arber), p. 53 : ‘The foule Toade hath a 
 faire stone in his head.’ Nares quotes Ben Jonson, The Fox, ii. 3: 
 
 ‘Or were you enamoured on his copper rings, 
 
 His saffron jewel with the toadstone in’t?’ 
 
 For further information on this subject see Topsell’s History of Serpents 
 (ed. 1658), p. 727, where the manner of taking the stone from the toad and 
 its many virtues are described. That the toad was venomous was believed 
 by Shakespeare in common with others of his time (compare Richard III 
 i. 3. 246, 4 That poisonous bunch-back’d toad ’), but modern observation has 
 not confirmed the belief. Topsell in the book just quoted (p. 726), says, ‘We 
 are now to make description and narration of the Toad, which is the most 
 noble kinde of Frog, most venomous and remarkable for courage and 
 strength.’ 
 
 15. exempt, free from; and so, cut off, remote from. Compare Comedy 
 of Errors, ii. 2. 173 : 
 
 4 Be it my wrong you are from me exempt.’ 
 
 16. Steevens compares Sidney, Arcadia, b. i. [p. 82, ed. 1598]: 
 
 4 Thus both trees and each thing else, be the bookes of a fancy.’ 
 
 18. I would not change it. In the folios these words are given to Amiens, 
 but Upton very properly assigned them to the Duke. 
 
 22. it irks me, it grieves me, vexes me. The Eton Latin Grammar has 
 made us familiar with 4 Taedet, it irketh ’; and 4 irksome ’ is still used in the 
 sense of 4 wearisome.’ Palsgrave (Lesclarcissement de la langue Francoyse) 
 gives, 4 It yrketh me, I waxe wery, or displeasaunt of a thyng. II me 
 ennuyt .’ See also 3 Henry VI, ii. 2. 6: 4 To see this sight, it irks my very 
 soul.’ Perhaps from Icel. verkr , A. S. wcerc. Northern Engl, wark, pain. In 
 Henryson’s Poems (ed. Laing), p. 28, 4 irk’ occurs in the sense of‘indo¬ 
 lent’: 
 
 4 In my yowtheid, allace! I wes full irk.’ 
 
 In this sense it is connected with the A. S. earg, lcel. argr, Germ, arg, 
 whence argern, to vex. 
 
 Ih. the poor dappled pools. See 1 . 40, and note on Lear, v. 3. 306, for 
 examples of this use of the word 4 fool.’ Compare 3 Henry VI, ii. 5. 36. 
 
 23. burghers, citizens. Compare The Merchant of Venice, i. I. 10: 
 
 4 Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood.’ 
 
 Steevens quotes from Sidney’s Arcadia, a passage in which deer are called 
 ‘the wild burgesses of the forest,’ and from Drayton’s Polyolbion, Book 18 
 [ 1 . 66 ]: 
 
SC. ].] 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 lOI 
 
 ‘Where, feareless of the Hunt, the Hart securely stood. 
 
 And euery where walkt free, a Burgesse of the Wood.’ 
 
 In Lodge’s' novel (p. 93), the deer are called in a sonnet ‘ the citizens of 
 wood.’ 
 
 24. confines. For the accent see Hamlet, i. 1. 155 : 
 
 ‘ The extravagant and erring spirit hies 
 To his confine.’ 
 
 lb. with forked heads. For the distinction between the forked and broad 
 arrow heads see the quotation from Ascham in the note to King Lear, 
 i. 1. 135 * A forked arrow was not, as Steevens says, a barbed arrow, but just 
 the contrary. ‘ Commodus the Emperoure vsed forked heades, whose facion 
 Herodiane doeth lyuely and naturally describe, sayinge that they were lyke 
 the shap of a new mone wherwyth he would smite of the heade of a 
 birde and neuer missed (Ascham, Toxophilus, ed. Arber, p. 136.) 
 
 31. atilique, ancient. The accent is always on the first syllable in 
 Shakespeare. See ii. 3. 57, and Hamlet, v. 2. 352 : 
 
 ‘ I am more an antique Roman than a Dane.’ 
 
 36-40. It was a common belief that the hunted deer shed tears at his 
 own death. Malone refers to a passage in Drayton’s Polyolbion, xiii. 11 . 160, 
 161 : 
 
 ‘ He who the Mourner is to his owne dying Corse, 
 
 Vpon the ruthlesse earthe his precious teares lets fall/ 
 
 The marginal note is: ‘ The Hart weepeth at his dying : his teares are held 
 to be precious in medicine.’ See also Batman vppon Bartholome, xviii. 30: 
 ‘And the Hart roareth, cryeth, and weepeth when he is taken.’ Again, 
 Sidney’s Arcadia (ed. 1598), p. 34. 
 
 44. moralize. This usage of the word is well illustrated by the following 
 from Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) : 4 Moraliser. To morrallize, to expound morrally, 
 to give a morall sence vnto.’ Hence it came to signify, to expound or in¬ 
 terpret generally, as in Lucrece, 104 : 
 
 ‘ Nor could she moralize his wanton sight.’ 
 
 46. into, changed by Pope to 4 in.’ 
 
 lb. the needless stream, which already had enough. Steevens compares 
 A Lover’s Complaint, 38-40: 
 
 ‘Which one by one she in a river threw, 
 
 Upon whose weeping margent she was set; 
 
 Like usury, applying wet to wet.’ 
 
 50. of after past participles, before the agent, is used where we now 
 employ ‘by.’ See Abbott, § 170. 
 
 Ib. his velvet friends, who are sleek and prosperous. 
 
 58. invectively, in bitter, railing terms. 
 
 59. the country . The first folio omits 4 the,’ which was added in the 
 
102 
 
 NOTES. [act in 
 
 later editions. Malone defended the omission, reading ‘ country ' therefore 
 as a trisyllable, and even so making but halting metre, 
 
 62. to kill them up. For this intensive use of ‘ up ’ compare ‘ Hatter up, 
 Love's Labour's Lost, v. 2. 824, and B. Jonson, Every Man out of his 
 Humour, i. 1: 
 
 ‘ Whereas a wholesome and penurious dearth 
 Purges the soil of such vile excrements, 
 
 And kills the vipers up.’ 
 
 Also King John, iv. 3. 133 : 
 
 ‘Enough to stifle such a villain up.’ 
 
 And Hamlet, v. 1. 299, Love’s Labour’s Lost, iv. 3. 305 : 
 
 ‘ Why, universal plodding poisons up 
 The nimble spirits in the arteries.’ 
 
 Caldecott quotes from More’s Utopia, trans. Robinson (ed. Arber, p. 159 ^* 
 
 ‘ The remembraunce of theire poore indigent and beggerlye olde age kylleth 
 them vp ‘; and Ascham’s Toxophilus (ed. Arber, p. 82): ‘The might of 
 theyr shootynge is wel knowen of the Spanyardes, whiche at the towne 
 called Newecastell in Illirica, were quyte slayne vp, of the turkes arrowes.’ 
 
 67. to cope him, encounter him. Compare Troilus and Cressida, i. 2. 34: 
 ‘They say he yesterday coped Hector in the battle and struck him down. 
 
 68. matter ,' good stuff, sound sense. Compare Lear, iv. 6. 178: ‘O 
 matter and impertinency mix’d.’ 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 8 . roynish, literally scurvy; from French rogneux. Hence coarse, rough. 
 Cotgrave gives ‘ Rongneux ... Scabbie, mangie, scuruie.’ The contemptuous 
 phrase in Macbeth, i. 3- 6 , ‘ the rump-fed ronyon, had probably the same 
 origin. In Halliwell’s Dictionary the following is quoted from Tusser, Five 
 Hundred Points of Good Husbandry (ed. Mavor), p. 289: 
 
 * The sloven and the careless man, the roynish nothing nice, 
 
 To lodge in chamber, comely deckt, are seldom suffered twice. 
 Tyrwhitt, in his Glossary to Chaucer, under the word ‘ roignous,’ refers to 
 two passages in the Romaunt of the Rose, 988 : 
 
 ‘ The foule crooked bowe hidous, 
 
 That knottie was, and all roinous.' 
 
 And 1 . 6190 : 
 
 ‘This argument is all roignous, 
 
 It is not worth a crooked brere.’ 
 
 In the form ‘ rinish,’ signifying ‘ wild, jolly, unruly, rude, it is found among 
 the Yorkshire words in Thoresby’s Letter to Ray, reprinted by the English 
 Dialect Society. ‘ Rennish ’ in the sense of c furious, passionate,’ which is in 
 Ray’s Collection of North Country Words, is perhaps another form of the same. 
 
 lo. Hisperia, the reading of the folios, was changed by Warburton to 
 Hesperia. 
 
AS VOU LIKE IT, 
 
 103 
 
 sc. 3.] 
 
 10. princess. The folios have ‘ Princesse.’ See note on i. 2. 149. 
 
 13. wrestler, a trisyllable. Compare Coriolanus, i. I. 159 * 
 
 ‘ You, the great toe of this assembly.’ 
 
 And Two Gentlemen of Verona, i. 3. 84 : 
 
 ‘ O, how this spring of love resembleth 
 The uncertain glory of an April day.’ 
 
 17. his brother. Mason conjectured ‘ his brother’s ’ because * that gal¬ 
 lant ’ is Orlando. 
 
 19. suddenly, speedily. Compare Psalm vi. 10; ‘Let them return and 
 be ashamed suddenly.’ 
 
 20. inquisition, enquiry. Compare The Tempest, i. 2. 35 : 
 
 ‘ You have often 
 
 Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp’d 
 And left me to a bootless inquisition.’ 
 
 Ib. quail, fail or slacken. Compare Holinshed (quoted by Capell), vol. ii. 
 p. 859, ed. 1577: ‘Thus all the kings exploytes by one meanes or other 
 quailed and came but to euill successe.’ Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) has Alachir. 
 To slacken ; to hang flagging downeward ; to slip, or fall downe, by weake- 
 nesse, out of it place; to quaile, fade, fayle, decay in strength; grow loose, 
 feeble we^ke ^ 
 
 21. bring again, bring back. This use of ‘ again,’ is very common in the 
 Authorised Version. Compare Deut. i. 22. 
 
 1 Scene III. 
 
 3. memory, memorial; as in Lear, iv. 7 * 7 : 
 
 ‘ These weeds are memories of those worser hours.’ 
 
 And in the Communion Service, ‘a perpetual memory of that his precious 
 death.’ 
 
 7. so fond to, so foolish as to. For the omission of ‘ as ’ see note on i. 3 62. 
 
 ‘ Fond ’ is contracted from 4 fonned ’ or 4 fonnyd.’ The latter form occurs in 
 Wiclif’s version of I Cor. i. 27 (ed. Lewis), where ‘ tho thingis that ben 
 fonnyd’ is the rendering of ‘ quae stulta sunt.’ The former is found in the 
 second of the Wicliffite Versions, edited byForshall and Madden, 1 Cor.i. 20, 
 
 ‘ Whether God hath not maad the wisdom of this world fonned ? ’ where 
 the Vulgate has 4 nonne stultam fecit Deus sapientiam hujus mundi ? ’ 
 Hence ‘ fonnednesse ’ in the same version is used for ‘ foolishness.’ ‘ Fonned 
 is derived from 4 fon,’ a fool, which occurs in Chaucer’s Reve’s Tale, 
 
 1. 4087 : , 
 
 * 11 hail, Aleyn, by God! thou is a fon. 
 
 And ‘ fon’ is connected with the Swedish fane, and perhaps with the Latin 
 
 vanus. _ _ , 
 
 8. The bonny priser. The first folio has ‘ bonnie ’ and the rest ‘ bonny. 
 
 Warburton read ‘bony’; but although this was adopted by Dyce on the 
 
104 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act II. 
 
 ground that Charles was in the previous scene called ‘ sinewy/ it may be 
 doubted whether in Shakespeare’s time ‘bony’ signified ‘big-boned/ and 
 whether a bony man would not rather mean a thin and skeleton-like man. 
 ‘ Bonny occurs several times, once (Taming of the Shrew, ii. i. 187) spelt 
 4 bony’ in the earlier copies. Compare 2 Henrv VI, v. 2. 12 : 
 
 ‘And made a prey for carrion kites and crows 
 Even of the bonny beast he loved so well/ 
 lb. priser, prize-fighter, champion; properly one who contends for a prize, 
 as in Ben Jonson, Cynthia s Revels, iv. 1 : ‘Well, I have a plot upon these 
 prizers. Again, v. 2 : Appeareth no man yet to answer the prizer ? ’ And 
 in the same scene 4 Where be these gallants, and their brave prizer here ? ’ 
 lb. humorous. See i. 2. 249. 
 
 10. some hind of men. Compare Lear, ii. 2. 107 : ‘ These kind of 
 knaves I know. Abbott, § 412. The first folio has the misprint ‘ seeme ’ 
 for ‘some.’ 
 
 J 4 > 1 5 - w hcn what is comely Envenoms him that bears it, like the 
 poisoned garment and diadem which Medea sent to Creusa, or the poisoned 
 tunic of Hercules. 
 
 16. Why, what's the matter? continued to Adam in the first folio. 
 
 17. within this roof. Capell proposed to alter ‘ within ’ to ‘beneath/ un* 
 necessarily. For ‘ roof is by a common figure of speech used for ‘ house/ as 
 in Sonnet x. 7 : 
 
 ‘ Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate, 
 
 Which to repair should be thy chief desire.’ 
 
 See also Beaumont and Fletcher’s Love’s Pilgrimage, iv. I : 
 
 ‘ Come, gentlemen, you shall 
 Enter my roof.’ 
 
 Dyce quotes Chapman, Homer’s Odyssey, xiv. 279: 
 
 ‘ He answer’d him; lie tell all strictly true, 
 
 If time, and foode, and wine enough acrue 
 Within your roofe to vs,’ &c. 
 
 26. practices, designs, plots. So in King John, iv. 3. 63 : 
 
 ‘It is the shameful work of Hubert’s hand; 
 
 The practice and the purpose of the King/ 
 
 27. place, dwelling-place, residence. Compare A Lover’s Complaint, 82 : 
 
 Love lack d a dwelling, and made him her place/ 
 
 Monck Mason thought that Adam means only to say, ‘ This is no place for 
 
 you. He justified his interpretation by referring to Fletcher’s Mad Lover, 
 i. 2 : 
 
 Mem. Why were there not such women in the camp then, 
 
 Prepared to make me know ’em? 
 
 Eum. ’Twas no place, sir/ 
 
 lb. butchery, a slaughter-house, butcher’s shambles; like Fr. boucherie. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 105 
 
 sc. 3.] 
 
 I11 Baret’s Alvearie (15S0) we find, ‘ Butcherie, Carnaiium . . . Macellum;’ 
 and in the later Wicliffite Version of 1 Corinthians x. 25 : ‘ A 1 thing that 
 is seld in the bocherie, ete £e, axynge no thing for conscience.’ 
 
 36. subject, with the accent on the last syllable, as in The Tempest, i. 2. 
 114: 
 
 ‘ Subject his coronet to his crown and bend 
 The dukedom yet unbow’d.’ 
 
 38. a diverted blood, that is, as Johnson explains it, blood diverted from 
 the course of nature. ‘ Blood’ is used for passion in opposition to reason in 
 Hamlet, iii. 2. 74 * Here it denotes natural affection such as should accom¬ 
 pany blood relationship. 
 
 39. the thrifty hire I saved, the wages I saved by thrift. For examples 
 of similar uses of the adjective compare i. I. 34, ii. 7. 132 : 
 
 * Oppress’d with two weak evils, age and hunger,’ 
 that is, evils which cause weakness. And again, Macbeth, iii. 4. 76 • 
 
 * Ere humane statute purged the gentle weal,’ 
 that is, the commonwealth which thereby became gentle. 
 
 42. lie lame. It has been proposed to read ‘be lame’ so as to suit the 
 construction of the following line. 
 
 43, 44. Referring to Psalm cxlvii. 9, Matthew x. 29. 
 
 49. rebellious liqiiors in my blood. Capell proposed to read, ‘to my 
 blood’ connecting the preposition with the verb ‘apply.’ But it rather 
 depends on ‘ rebellious,’ liquors which become rebellious in the blood. See 
 note on 1. 39 above. 
 
 50. Nor did not. For the double negative compare Venus and Adonis, 
 
 4°9 : 
 
 ‘ I know not love, quoth he, nor will not know it.’ 
 
 57. antique. See ii. 1. 31. 
 
 57, 58. The occurrence of the word ‘service’ in these two lines caused 
 Sidney Walker to suspect a corruption in the former. * Temper’ and ‘ favour’ 
 have been proposed for ‘service’ in 1. 57, and ‘servants’ or ‘ duty’ in 1. 58. 
 
 58. meed, reward. A.S .med; compare Germ, uiiethe. 
 
 65. In lieu of, in return for. Compare The Tempest, i. 2. 123 : 
 
 ‘ In lieu o’ the premises 
 
 Of homage and I know not how much tribute.’ 
 
 66. Come thy ways. See i. 2. 191. 
 
 68. content, contented state. See i. 3. 134. 
 
 71. seventeen. The first folio has ‘ seauentie,’the others ‘ seventy.’ Rowe 
 made the necessary correction. 
 
 74. too late a week. Delius interprets this as signifying a week too late, 
 somewhat too late, ‘ a week’ being used elsewhere for an indefinite period of 
 time. Mr. Halliwell (Phillipps) quotes from Heywood’s Works (Spenser 
 
NOTES. 
 
 [act II. 
 
 106 
 
 Soc. ed. p. 74) : ‘ And amend ye or not, I am to olde a yere.’ But it seems 
 more likely that ‘ a week’ is an adverbial phrase equivalent to ‘ i’ the week.’ 
 See note on ii. 4. 45. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 I. weary. The folios have ‘merry.’ Theobald made the correction. 
 Whiter defends the old reading on the ground that Rosalind’s merriment was 
 assumed as well as her dress. But it is clear from the character of Touch¬ 
 stone’s subsequent speeches that when he says ‘ I care not for my spirits, if 
 my legs were not weary,’ he is playing upon something which Rosalind had 
 said. 
 
 4. I could find in my heart, am almost inclined. Compare The Tempest, 
 ii. 2. 160 : 
 
 ‘ A most scurvy monster! 
 
 I could find in my heart to beat him.’ 
 
 5. the weaker vessel. See I Peter iii. 7. 
 
 6 . doublet and hose , coat and breeches. According to Fairholt (Costume 
 in England, p. 437), the name ‘doublet’ was derived ‘from the garment 
 being made of double stuff padded between. . . . The doublet was close, 
 and fitted tightly to the body; the shirts reaching a little below the girdle.’ 
 The same writer (p. 512) says of ‘hose,’ ‘ This word, now applied solely to 
 the stocking, was originally used to imply the breeches or chausses.’ 
 
 8. cannot go no further. See ii. 3. 50. The later folios read ‘ can.’ 
 
 9. bear with. The same play on ‘ bear’ and ‘ bear with’ is to be found 
 in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, i. 1. 125-128: 
 
 ‘ Fro. No, no; you shall have it for bearing the letter. 
 
 Speed. Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you.’ 
 
 10. I should bear no cross. A play upon the figurative expression in 
 Matthew x. 38; a cross being upon the reverse of all the silver coins of 
 Elizabeth. Compare 2 Henry IV, i. 2. 253 : 
 
 ‘ Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound to furnish me forth? 
 
 Ch. Just. Not a penny, not a penny ; you are too impatient to bear 
 crosses.’ 
 
 28. fantasy, the earlier form of the word ‘ fancy ’; used in the sense in 
 which it is found in iii. 2. 334. ‘ Fantasie’ occurs in Chaucer’s Merchant’s 
 
 Tale (C. T. 9451), in the margin of the later Wicliffite version of Josh. xxii. 
 19, and perhaps earlier still. 
 
 35. Wearing, that is, fatiguing, exhausting. So the first folio. ‘Weary¬ 
 ing,’ which is the reading of the later folios, gives the same sense, but the 
 change is not necessary. 
 
 37. broke. See i. 1. 77. 
 
 41. searching of, in searching of, or a-searching of; ‘ searching’ being in 
 reality a verbal noun. See ii. 7. 4 ; Lear ii. 1. 41 ; Abbott, § 178. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 107 
 
 sc. 4.] 
 
 lb. thy wound. Rowe’s reading. The first folio has ‘ they would,^ 
 which was corrected, though imperfectly, in the later folios to ‘their wound. 
 
 45. a-night, at or by night. So in The Owl and the Nightingale, 219 : 
 
 ‘ Jm singest a niht and noht a dai. 
 
 For other instances of the adverb in this form compare ‘ a-land,’ Pericles, 
 ii. I. 31 ; * a-height,’ Lear, iv. 6. 58 ; so also ‘ alive,’ ‘ asleep,’ were originally 
 
 adverbial. The later folios read ‘ a nights.’ 
 
 46. batlet. So in the later folios, as a diminutive of ‘ bat.’ The first folio 
 has ‘ batler,’ perhaps rightly, which is recognized in Halliwell’s Archaic and 
 Provincial Dictionary, and defined by Johnson as the instrument with which 
 washers beat their coarse clothes. In Hartshorne’s Shropshire Glossary it 
 appears as a batstaff or battleton. Mr. Robinson, in his Glossary of Words 
 used in the neighbourhood of Whitby (English Dialect Society) records 
 ‘Batlet’ or ‘Battledore’ and ‘ Bittle,’ which signify the same thing, and 
 * Battlingsteean’ as ‘ a large stone at the brook-side, upon which wet coarse 
 clothes are beaten.’ In the Lancashire Glossary (Nodal and Milner),^ ‘ Bat- 
 trill’ is described as * a short staff; a batting staff used by laundresses.’ ^ See 
 also Bamford’s Dialect of South Lancashire. The two forms ‘ batler and 
 ‘batlet’ as diminutives of ‘bat’ may be compared with ‘lancer (1 Kings 
 xviii. 28, ed. 1611), and ‘lancet’ as diminutives of ‘lance. The form 
 ‘lancet’ is substituted in modern editions of the Authorised Version.. 
 
 lb. chopt, chapped. The spelling of the folios, as in Sonnet lxii. 10, 
 
 where the quarto has 
 
 ‘Beated and chopt with tand antiquitie.’ 
 
 Both forms of the word were used, the pronunciation being the same m 
 each case. Cotgrave gives ‘ Crevasser. To chop, chawne, chap, chinke, 
 riue, or cleaue asunder.’ And in the Authorised Version of Jeremiah xiv. 
 4 (ed. 1611) we find, ‘Because the ground is chapt, for there was no raine 
 
 in the earth.’ 
 
 47. a peascod. The peascod is the husk or pod which contains the peas, 
 but it here appears to be used for the plant itself. Palsgrave (Lesclarcisse- 
 ment de la Langue Francoyse) gives, ‘ Pescodde escosse de poix. The 
 word ‘cod’ (A. S. codd) is said to be from the Welsh cod or cwd, a bag. 
 For ‘cods’ in 1 . 48 Johnson conjectured ‘peas.’ Among the additions in 
 Bohn’s edition of Brand’s Popular Antiquities, ii. 99, the following illustra¬ 
 tion of the present’ passage is given: ‘ The commentators on Shakespeare 
 have entirely misunderstood a passage in the works of our great dramatic 
 poet, from not having been aware that our ancestors were frequently accus¬ 
 tomed in their love affairs to employ the divination of a peascod, by selecting 
 one growing on the stem, snatching it away quickly, and if the good omen 
 of the peas remaining in the husk were preserved, then presenting it to the 
 lady of their choice.’ The writer in support of this quotes from Browne s 
 Britannia’s Pastorals (B. ii. Song 3, 11 . 93 “ 9 ^» HazlitO ' 
 
notes. 
 
 [act ii. 
 
 io8 
 
 * The peascod greene oft with no little toyle 
 Hee’d seeke for in the fattest fertil’st soile. 
 
 And rend it from the stalke to bring it to her, 
 
 And in her bosome for acceptance wooe her.’ 
 
 49. ivitk weeping tears, that is, tears of sorrow. This affected phrase, 
 which Shakespeare was very glad to hold up to ridicule, is found in Lodge’s 
 novel, p. 66 : 
 
 ‘ But weeping teares their want could not suffice.’ 
 
 51. mortal in folly. Johnson refers to the provincial use of the word 
 ‘ mortal’ in the sense of excessive. This would give Touchstone an oppor¬ 
 tunity of indulging in his propensity for punning. ‘ Mort ’ in some dialects 
 denotes a great quantity or number. 
 
 52. wiser, more wisely. For examples of adjectives used as adverbs see 
 Abbott, § 1. 
 
 Ib. ware, aware. Compare Romeo and Juliet, i. 1. 131 : 
 
 ‘ Towards him I made, but he was ware of me.’ 
 
 Touchstone in the following line plays upon the other meaning of ‘ to be 
 ware.’ 
 
 56. upon my fashion, after or according to my fashion. See i. 1. 1, and 
 Measure for Measure, iii. 2. 242 : ‘ Much upon this riddle runs the wisdom 
 of the world.’ 
 
 58. yond, originally a preposition or adverb (A. S. geond), appears as a 
 demonstrative in the Ormulum, 10612 (Koch, Historische Grammatik d. 
 Eng. Sprache, ii. 248 ; Morris, English Accidence, § 181). Compare the 
 Gothic jams, that; jaind, jaindre, and jainar, there; and the Germ. 
 jener. 
 
 62. Your betters. Compare Sidney, Arcadia (ed. 1598), p. 67 : ‘ For their 
 ordinary conceipt draweth a yeelding to their greaters.’ 
 
 69. And faints for succour, that is, for want of help. See ii. 6. 1. We 
 must either suppose that the nominative is omitted, as in i. 1. 1, or we must 
 regard the participle ‘ oppress’d ’ as equivalent to ‘ who is oppress’d.’ 
 
 73 - the fleeces that I graze. ‘Fleeces’ for ‘flocks’; or else we must 
 regard it as ‘ the fleeces of the sheep that, &c.’ 
 
 74. churlish, miserly, penurious, like Nabal in I Samuel xxv. 3. Compare 
 Romeo and Juliet, v. 3. 163 : 
 
 ‘ O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop 
 To help me after.’ 
 
 From A.S. ceorl, a clown, comes ‘ churlish 1 in the sense of rough, rude, as in 
 ii. 1. 7, and thence is derived the secondary meaning which it has in the 
 present passage. 
 
 75. recks, cares. Compare Troilus and Cressida, v. 6. 26 : 
 
 ‘I reck not though I end my life to-day’; 
 
sc. 5.] 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 109 
 
 where also, as in the present passage, the spelling of the first folio is ‘ wreake.’ 
 In Hamlet, i. 3. 51, it is ‘ reaks.’ 
 
 77. cote, a shepherd’s hut, called a cottage in 1. 86, and iii. 5. 106; used 
 also for the fold itself. See iii. 2. 388. Compare 2 Chron. xxxii. 28 : 
 
 ‘ Stalls for all manner of beasts, and cotes for flocks.’ And Chapman’s 
 Homer, II. xviii. 535 : 
 
 ‘ And cotes that did the shepherds keep 
 From wind and weather.’ 
 
 Cotgrave has: ‘ Cavenne de bergier : f. a Shepheard’s cote ; little cottage, • 
 or cabine made of turues, straw, boughes, or leaues.’ 
 
 lb bounds of feed, limits within which he had the right of pasturage. 
 See iii. 5. 106. 
 
 81. in my voice, so far as my vote is concerned, so far as I have authority 
 to bid you welcome. The phrase occurs in a slightly different sense in 
 Measure for Measure, i. 2. 185 : 
 
 ‘ Implore her in my voice that she make friends 
 To the strict deputy.’ 
 
 83. ereivhile, a short time since. See iii. 5. 104, and Midsummer Night’s 
 Dream, iii. 2, 274: 
 
 ‘I am as fair now as I was erewhile.’ 
 
 85. if it stand with, if it be consistent with. Compare Coriolanus, ii. 3. 
 91 : ‘ Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your voices that I may 
 be consul, I have here the customary gown.’ And Bacon, Advancement of 
 Learning, Bk. 2, vii. 2 (p. 112, Clar. Press ed.): ‘I am otherwise zealous 
 and affectionate to recede as little from antiquity, either in terms or opi¬ 
 nions, as may stand with truth and the proficience of knowledge.’ 
 
 87. thou shalt have (wherewithal) to pay for it. 
 
 93. feeder, servant. See Antony and Cleopatra, iii. 13. 109 : 
 
 ‘ To be abused 
 
 By one that looks on feeders.’ 
 
 So in Ben Jonson’s Silent Woman, iii. 2, Morose says, 
 
 * Where *are all my eaters ? my mouths, now ?— 
 
 (Enter Servants .) Bar up my doors, you varlets.’ 
 
 In the present passage the word may mean a feeder of sheep, but the more 
 general meaning is to be preferred. Sidney Walker conjectured ‘ factor,’ 
 that is, agent in negotiating the purchase. 
 
 94. suddenly. See ii. 2. 19. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 3. turn, altered by Rowe in his second edition to ‘ tune,’ which is sup¬ 
 ported by a passage in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, v. 4. 5» 6 ; 
 
 ‘And to the nightingale’s complaining notes 
 Tune my distresses and record my woes, , 
 
T IO 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act II. 
 
 But Singer quotes in defence of the old reading, Hall, Satires, vi. I. 195 • 
 ‘Whiles thred-bare Martiall turnes his merry note.’ 
 
 Dyce considers this also to be a misprint for ‘tunes,’ and ‘turn a note* he 
 explains as equivalent to ‘ change a note.’ Compare also Locrine, ii. 2 ; 
 
 * But when he sees that he must needs be press’d 
 He’ll turn his note, and sing another tune.’ 
 
 Even granting this, there appears to be no absolute necessity for change in 
 the present passage, for ‘ turn his merry note ’ may mean adapt or modulate 
 his note to the sweet birds’ song, following it in its changes. ‘ To turn a 
 tune' says Whiter, ‘in the counties of York and Durham, is the appropriate 
 and familiar phrase for modulating the voice properly according to the turns 
 or air of the tune.’ 
 
 14. ragged, rugged, rough. So Isaiah ii. 21 : ‘ To go into the clefts of 
 the rocks, and into the tops of the ragged rocks.’ Compare also Sonnet, 
 vi. I : 
 
 ‘ Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface 
 In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill’d.’ 
 
 And Venus and Adonis, 37 : 
 
 ‘ The studded bridle on a ragged bough 
 Nimbly she fastens.’ 
 
 16. stanzo. So the folios. Steevens, following Capell’s suggestion, 
 changed it to * stanza,’ in accordance with modern usage. But Cotgrave 
 (Fr. Diet.) gives, ‘ Stance : f. A station; a lodging, dwelling, or abiding place : 
 also, a pawse, or stay ; also, a stanzo, or staffe of verses.’ In Love’s Labour’s 
 Lost, iv. 2. 107, the word is printed in the first folio ‘ stanze.’ 
 
 23. dog-apes, baboons. Topsell in his History of Beasts (p. 8) says : 
 
 * Cynocephales, are a kind of Apes, whose heads are like Dogs, and their 
 other parts like a mans.’ 
 
 27. cover, lay the cloth for the banquet. Compare The Merchant of 
 Venice, iii. 5. 65 : ‘ Bid them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we will 
 come in to dinner.’ And just before, line 57. 
 
 29. to look yon, to look for you. Compare Merry Wives of Windsor, iv. 
 2. 83 : ‘ Mistress Page and I will look some linen for your head.’ 
 
 31. disputable , disputatious, fond of argument. Other examples of adjec¬ 
 tives in -able with an active sense are ‘comfortable,’ as in Lear, i. 4. 
 328 : 
 
 ‘ Yet have I left a daughter, 
 
 Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable.’ 
 
 And ‘ deceivable’ in Twelfth Night, iv. 3. 21 : 
 
 ‘ There’s something in’t 
 That is deceivable.’ 
 
 ‘ Contemptible ’ in the sense of contemptuous occurs in Much Ado about 
 Nothing, ii. 3. 187. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Ill 
 
 sc* 
 
 is to live ? the sun, a life of open-air freedom, which as opposed to the 
 life of the ambitious man is also one of retirement and neglect. Hamlet 
 seems to have had this in his mind when he said (1. 2. 67), ‘ I am too much 
 i’ the sun’ • and Beatrice in Much Ado about Nothing, n. 1. 33 x > ihus 
 goes every one to the world but I, and I am sun-burnt,’ that is, exposed and 
 neglected, like the bride in the Canticles, i. 6. See also Troilus and Cressida, 
 
 i 3 282. 
 
 ’ CO Ducdame. It is in vain that any meaning is sought for this jargon, 
 as Taques only intended to fill up a line with sounds that have no sense. 
 There is a bit of similar nonsense in Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) s. v. Orgues. . ire 
 
 d’orgues. vous dites d’orgues. You say blew ; how say you to that j wisely 
 brother Timothie; true Roger ; did am did am.’ The metre is of course 
 an imitation of the line of the song, ‘ Come hither, come hither, come hither, 
 which rhvmes with ‘ But winter and rough weather,’ and in consequenceP r. 
 Ainger has suggested to me that we should read ‘ Ducdo me, Ducdome, 
 Ducdo'me,’ to rhyme with ‘ An if he will' come to me. Dr. Farmer pro¬ 
 posed to read ‘ An if he will come to Ami,’ that is, to Amiens; but this 
 
 secures a rhyme at the expense of the metre. . 
 
 56. go sleep. Compare ‘ go pray,’ Hamlet, 1. 5. 132, and see note. A .0 
 in this play ‘ come see,’ ii. 4. 80. 
 
 57. firstborn of Egypt. Exodus xii. 29. Johnson says it is a proverbi 
 expression for high-born persons; but its appropriateness is not self-evident, 
 and if Shakespeare had, as seems probable, the passage of Exodus in his 
 
 mind the reference must be much more general. _ 
 
 c8 his banquet. The banquet was, strictly speaking, the wine and dessert 
 after dinner, and it is here used in this sense, for Amiens says above. The 
 duke will drink under this tree/ Compare Massinger, The Unnatural 
 
 Combat, iii. 1 : 
 
 ‘We’ll dine in the great room, but let the music 
 
 And banquet be prepared here.’ 
 
 And again, The City Madam, ii. I . 
 
 * And most of the shops 
 
 Of the best confectioners in London ransack’d 
 
 To furnish out a banquet.’ 
 
 So also Macbeth, iii. 6. 35 : , 
 
 ‘ Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives. 
 
 Scene VI. 
 
 This scene is printed as irregular verse in the folios. ' 
 
 1. for food, for want of food. Compare 11. 4 - 6 9 * where for succour 
 
 means for want of succour. *_ 
 
 2. Here lie I down, &c. Steevens compares Romeo and Juliet, m. 3. 70 
 
112 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act ii. 
 
 ‘ And fall upon the ground, as I do now, 
 
 Taking the measure of an unmade grave.' 
 
 5. comfort. We must either take ‘comfort’ as equivalent to ‘be com¬ 
 forted' or ‘ have comfort,’ or else regard ‘ thyself’ as the object to ‘comfort’ 
 as well as ‘ cheer.’ 
 
 7. conceit , fancy, imagination. Compare Hamlet, iii. 4. 114: 
 
 ‘ Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works.’ 
 
 And Lear, iv. 6. 42 : 
 
 ‘ And yet I know not how conceit may rob 
 The treasury of life.’ 
 
 10. presently , immediately. Compare Matthew xxvi. 53. 
 
 12. Well said! well done! Compare I Henry IV, v. 4. 75: ‘Well said, 
 Hal! to it, Hal! Nay, you shall find no boy’s play here, I can tell you !’ 
 
 13. cheerly, cheerily. The first three folios spell the word ‘cheerely.’ 
 Compare Richard II, i. 3. 66: 
 
 ‘Not sick, although I have to do with death, 
 
 But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath.’ 
 
 Scene VII. 
 
 I. 7 think he he transform'd. The subjunctive expresses doubt and un- 
 certainty. Compare Othello, iii. 3. 384 : 
 
 ‘ I think my wife be honest, and think she is not.’ 
 
 And Hamlet, i. I. 108: ‘I think it be no other but even so.’ See Abbott, 
 § 299. 
 
 3. but even now, but just now. See Merchant of Venice, i. 1. 35. 
 
 4. hearing of. See ii. 4. 41. 
 
 5. compact of jars, composed of discords. Compare Venus and Adonis, 
 149: ‘Love is a spirit all compact of fire.’ ‘Jar’ as a substantive is used 
 elsewhere by Shakespeare, in the general sense of discord. Here there is a 
 play upon the word. The verb several times occurs of musical discord. See 
 Taming of the Shrew, iii. 1. 39 : ‘ O fie! the treble jars.’ 
 
 6. discord in the spheres. The old belief in the music of the spheres is 
 frequently referred to by Shakespeare. See Twelfth Night, iii. 1. 121 : 
 
 ‘ I had rather hear you to solicit that 
 Than music from the spheres.’ 
 
 And also Antony and Cleopatra, v. 2. 84; Pericles, v. I. 231; Merchant of 
 Venice, v. 1. 60-62. Compare Batman vppon Bartholome (ed. 1582), fol. 
 123b: ‘ And so Macrobius saith : in putting & mouing of the roundnesse of 
 heauen, is that noyse made, and tempereth sharpe noyse with lowe noyse, 
 and maketh diners accordes and melodie: but for the default of our hearing, 
 and also for passing measure of that noyse and melodie, this harmony and 
 accord is not heard of vs.’ 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT . 
 
 sc. 7.] 
 
 “3 
 
 13. ^4 motley fool. In Shakespeare’s time the dress of the domestic fool, 
 who formed an essential element in large households, was motley or parti¬ 
 coloured. The word ‘motley’ occurs in Chaucer’s description of the Mer¬ 
 chant (Prologue to Canterbury Tales, '271): 
 
 ‘A Marchaunt was ther with a foiked berd, 
 
 In motteleye , and high on horse he sat.’ 
 
 Its etymology is uncertain; some regarding it as a corruption of 8 medley,’ 
 others as derived from the Welsh mudliw , a changing colour. But Professor 
 Cowell informs me that mwtlai is one of the words expressly mentioned by 
 Goronwy Owen as having been borrowed from the English by Ap Gwilym 
 the great Welsh poet contemporary with Chaucer. 
 
 Ib. a miserable world l A parenthetic exclamation, in keeping with 
 Jaques’ cynicism. Hanmer, at Warburton’s suggestion, read ‘varlet.’ 
 
 19. Referring, as Upton pointed out, to the proverbial saying, 8 Fortuna 
 favet fatuis.’ Ray, in his Collection of English Proverbs, has ‘ Fortune favours 
 fools, or fools have the best luck.' Heywood (Works, p. 62, Spencer Soc. 
 ed.) gives ‘ God sendeth fortune to fooles.’ Reed quotes the prologue to 
 Ben Jonson’s Alchemist: 
 
 ‘ Fortune, that favours fools, these two short hours 
 We wish away.’ 
 
 And Every Man out of his Humour, i. 1 : 
 
 * Sog. Why, who ami, sir ? 
 
 Mac. One of those that fortune favours. 
 
 Car. The periphrasis of a fool.’ 
 
 20. a dial. Knight, in his illustrations of this play, gives an account of 
 a portable sundial, which may have been of the same kind as that which the 
 fool drew from his fob. ‘ It is a brass circle of about two inches diameter; 
 on the outer side are engraved letters indicating the names of the months, with 
 graduated divisions ; and on the inner side the hours of the day. The brass 
 circle itself is to be held in one position by a ring; but there is an inner 
 slide in which there is a small orifice. This slide being moved so that the 
 hole stands opposite the division of the month when the day falls of which 
 we desire to know the time, the circle is held up opposite the sun. The 
 inner side is of course then in shade ; but the sunbeam shines through the 
 little orifice and forms a point of light upon the hour marked on the inner 
 side.’ But in other passages of Shakespeare in which a dial is mentioned it 
 is said to have a point or hand. Compare Richard II, V. 5. 53 : 
 
 ‘ And with sighs they jar 
 
 Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch, 
 
 Whereto my finger, like a dial’s point, 
 
 Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.’ 
 
 And again in I Henry IV, v. 2. 84: 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 NOTES a 
 
 [act II. 
 
 * If life did ride upon a dial’s point, 
 
 Still ending at the arrival of an hour.’ 
 
 1 see no reason therefore for supposing that in the present passage the dial 
 may not have been a common watch, perhaps with an hour hand only. 
 
 lb. from his poke, the pouch or pocket which he wore by his side. See 
 below, I. 159. Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) has, ‘Poche: f. A pocket, pouch, or 
 poke.’ Compare Skelton’s Bowge of Court, 477 (*• P- 4 - 8 , Dyce) : 
 
 ‘ I haue a stoppinge oyster in my poke.’ 
 
 23. wags, moves along. The word was used both transitively and in? 
 transitively for ‘ to move.’ Compare Titus Andronicus, v. 2. 87 I 
 ‘ For well I wot the Empress never wags, 
 
 But in her company there is a Moor.* 
 
 And Merchant of Venice, iv. 1. 76- 
 
 26. ripe, ripen. Compare Midsummer Night’s Dream, ii. 2. 118: 
 
 ‘ So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason.’ 
 
 Also Merchant of Venice, ii. 8. 40 : 
 
 •But stay the very riping of the time.’ 
 
 29. moral, moralize. So ‘ moraler for moralizer in Othello, ii. 3* 3 ®* " 
 
 ‘ You are too severe a moraler.’ And ‘ moral’ in the sense of moralizing 
 occurs in Lear, iv. 2. 58 : 
 
 ‘ Whiles thou, a moral fool, sit’st still, and criest 
 “Alack, why does he so?” 0 
 
 Some commentators take 6 moral ’ in the present passage also as an adjective. 
 
 30. crow, laugh merrily. Compare Two Gentlemen of Verona, ii. 1. 28 : 
 ‘You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock. 
 
 Ib. chanticleer, the cock, is familiar to the readers of Reynard the Fox 
 (Percy Soc. ed.), in which story the heading of cap. v, is, ‘ How Chantecler 
 the cok complayned on the foxe.’ 
 
 32. satis intermission. In the note on The Tempest, i. 2. 9 7 ’ ^ sh ewn 
 that the French preposition ‘sans’ (from Lat. sine, as certes from certe ) was _ 
 actually adopted for a time as an English word. 
 
 34. Motley's the only wear, the only dress in fashion. For * wear ’ in this 
 sense compare Measure for Measure, iii. 2. 78° 
 
 ‘ Pom. I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail. 
 
 Lucio. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the wear.’ 
 
 And All’s Well that Ends Well, i. I. 219: ‘But the. composition that your 
 valour and fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear 
 well.’ In the same play, i. 1. 172, ‘wear’ occurs as a verb in the sense of 
 ‘to be in fashion’: ‘Just like the brooch and the tooth-pick, which wear not 
 now.’ Steevens quotes Donne, Satire iv. 86: ‘Your only wearing is your 
 grogaram,’ which Pope in his modernized version, partly from the exigencies 
 of rhyme and partly from the change of fashion, altered to 
 ‘Your only wearing is your paduasoy.’ 
 
SC. 7 .] AS YOU LIKE IT. 11,5 
 
 Compare 2 Henry IV, ii. I. 155, where, the hostess having pawned her plate, 
 FalstafF says, ‘ Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking.’ 
 
 39. dry as the remainder biscuit. Boswell quotes Irom Ben Jonson s 
 Every Man out of his Humour [Induction] : 
 
 ‘And, now and then, breaks a dry biscuit jest, 
 
 Which, that it may more easily be chewed, 
 
 He steeps in his own laughter.’ 
 
 In the physiology of Shakespeare’s time a dry brain accompanied slowness of 
 apprehension and a retentive memory. We read in Batman vppon Bartho- 
 lome, fol. 37b, ‘Good disposition of the braine and euill is knowne by his 
 deedes, for if the substaunce of the braine be soft, thinne, and cleere: it 
 receiueth lightly the feeling & printing of shapes, and lykenesses of thinges. 
 He that hath such a braine is swift, and good of perseueraunce and teaching. 
 When it is contrarye, the braine is not softe: eyther if he be troubled, he 
 that hath such a braine receiueth slowly the feeling and printing of thinges: 
 But neuerthelesse when hee hath taken and receiued them, he keepeth them 
 long in minde. And that is signe and token of drinesse, as fluxibility & for¬ 
 getting is token of moisture, as Haly sayth.’ See Troilus and Cressida, i. 3 - 3 2 9 ’ 
 
 40. places, topics or subjects of discourse. Compare Bacon, Advancement 
 of Learning, ii. 13. § 7 : ‘ And we see the ancient writers of rhetoric do give 
 it in precept, that pleaders should have the places, whereof they have most 
 continual use, ready handled in all the variety that may be. 
 
 43. ambitious for. Compare for the construction Coriolanus, ii. I. 76: 
 ‘You are ambitious for poor knaves’ caps and legs.’ ‘Ambitious, as would 
 appear from the word ‘ suit ’ in the next speech of Jaques, is here used with 
 something of the meaning of the Latin ambitiosus , going about as a can¬ 
 didate. 
 
 44. my only suit. A play upon the word as in iv. I. 76. 
 
 48. as large a charter as the wind , to blow where it listeth. Compare 
 Troilus and Cressida, i. 3. 253, ‘Speak frankly as the wind’; and Henry V, 
 i. 1. 48: 
 
 ‘When he speaks, 
 
 The air, a charter’d libertine, is still.’ 
 
 55. [Not /o] seem senseless of the bob. The words in brackets were 
 added by Theobald to mend the limping metre and the halting sense. The 
 old reading, with a slight change of punctuation, was defended by Whiter, 
 who reads, 
 
 ‘ Doth, very foolishly although he smart, 
 
 Seem senseless of the bob’; 
 
 and remarks, ‘ That is, a wise man, whose failings should chance to be Well 
 rallied by a simple unmeaning jester, even though he should be weak enough 
 really to be hurt by so foolish an attack, appears always insensible of the 
 stroke.* More recently, the passage as it stands in the folios has found 
 
 I 2 
 
NOTES. 
 
 [act li. 
 
 n<5 
 
 a defender in Dr. Ingleby, who classes this, in his Shakespeare Hermeneutics 
 or The Still Lion, p. 81, among the lines which have been needlessly altered. 
 He says, ‘ Theobald, being conscious of a hitch in the sense, proposed “ Not 
 to seem senseless ” for “ Seeme senselesse.” In this lead he has been usually 
 followed, even by the Cambridge editors. Had they seized the central notion 
 of the passage, they would not have done so. Why does a fool do rvisely in 
 hitting a wise man ? Because, through the vantage of his folly, he puts the 
 wise man “ in a strait betwixt two,” to put up with the smart of the bob, 
 without dissembling, and the consequential awkwardness of having to do so 
 —which makes him feel foolish enough—or, to put up with the smart, and 
 dissemble it, which entails the secondary awkwardness of the dissimulation 
 which makes him feel still more foolish. Taking the former alternative, i.e. 
 “ If not ” (“ If he do not ”), his “ folly is anatomized even by the squandering 
 glances of the fool; ” taking the latter alternative, he makes a fool of him¬ 
 self in the eyes of almost everybody else. So the fool gets the advantage 
 both ways.’ In the first place, however, it is not said that the fool doth 
 wisely in hitting a wise man ; but that if he hits him wisely, the blow on 
 the part of the fool being struck at random, a squandering glance, without 
 any wisdom of intention, the wise man will do well to observe a certain 
 line of conduct. Again, Dr. Ingleby’s explanation would seem to require 
 ‘ because he smarts ’ instead of ‘ although he smarts,’ as shewing how it is 
 that the wise man’s dissimulation is foolish or awkward. If the wise man in 
 his dissimulation very foolishly or awkwardly attempts to seem insensible to 
 the jesting of the fool, his folly is anatomized or exposed as much as it pos¬ 
 sibly could be, and the contrast implied in the ‘ If not ’ of the next sentence 
 has no point. ‘ If not,’ that is, if he do not what is suggested, ‘ the wise 
 man’s folly is anatomized ’ or laid bare even by the extravagant and random 
 sallies of the fool. The preceding sentence shews how this is to be avoided, 
 which is by seeming insensible to the jest and laughing it off; for otherwise, 
 if the wise man shews that he feels the sting, or even foolishly and awkwardly 
 disguises his feeling, which is the only meaning of which the original text 
 seems capable, his folly is equally exposed. Jaques gives this as the explan¬ 
 ation of what he said in 50, 51 : 
 
 ‘ And they that are most galled with my folly, 
 
 They most must laugh.’ 
 
 The reading of the folios is not an explanation but a repetition. 
 
 lb. bob, a rap, a jest. Compare Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.): ‘Taloche: f. A 
 bob, or a rap ouer the fingers ends closed together.’ 
 
 57. squandering, random, without definite aim. To squander is to scatter, 
 and ‘ scattering’ is used very mtich in the same sense as ‘ squandering’ in the 
 present passage in Othello, iii. 3. 151 • 
 
 ‘Nor build yourself a trouble 
 Out of his scattering and unsure observance,’ 
 
SC. 7.] 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 117 
 
 lb. glances , side hits. 
 
 63. for a counter, a worthless wager; a counter being a piece of metal 
 of no value, used only for calculations. See Troilus and Cressida, ii. 2, 
 
 28 : 
 
 * Will you with counters sum 
 The past proportion of his infinite?’ 
 
 66. the brutish sting, the impulse of the animal nature. Compare Othello, 
 j- 3• 335 : ‘ But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, 
 our unbitted lusts.’ 
 
 67. embossed. Compare Lear, ii. 4. 227: 
 
 ‘ A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle.’ 
 
 Ib. headed evils , like tumors grown to a head. Compare Richard II, v. 
 
 I. 58 : 
 
 ‘ Ere foul sin gathering head 
 Shall break into corruption.’ 
 
 71. lax, censure. See below, line 86 ; i. 2. 76; Hamlet, i. 4. 18. 
 
 Ib. any private party, or particular person. 
 
 73. Till that the wearer's very means do ebb. The first folio reads 
 * wearie verie,’ which was modified by Pope to ‘ very very,’ a change which 
 subsequent editors were content to adopt. Singer proposed ‘ wearer’s ’ for 
 ‘ wearie,’ a conjecture which Dr. Ingleby regards as one of the few that 
 can be cited with unqualified satisfaction. For the idea see Henry VIII, i, 
 I.83-85: 
 
 ‘O, many 
 
 Have broke their backs with laying manors on ’em 
 
 For this great journey.’ 
 
 Stubbes, in his Anatomie of Abuses (1583), Collier’s reprint, p. 54, inveighs 
 against the extravagance of costume in England in his day: ‘ And whether 
 they have argente to mayntayne this geare withall, or not, it forceth not 
 muche, for they have it by one meane or other, or els they will eyther sell 
 or morgage their landes (as they have good store) on Suters hill and Stangate 
 hole, with losse of their lyves at Tiburne in a rope.’ 
 
 75. The city-woman, the citizen’s wife. 
 
 76. The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders. Compare 2 Henry VI, i. 3 - 8.3 <’ 
 
 ‘ She bears a duke’s revenues on her back.’ 
 
 79. of basest function, holding the meanest office. 
 
 80. bravery, finery. Compare Taming of the Shrew, iv. 3 * 57 * 
 
 ‘ With scarfs and fans and double change of bravery.’ 
 
 And Sonnet xxxiv. 4 : 
 
 ‘ Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke.’ 
 
 85. free, innocent. As in Hamlet, ii. 2. 590 : 
 
 ‘ Make mad the guilty and appal the free.’ 
 
 And iii. 3. 252 : ‘ Your majesty and we that havq free souls,it touches us not.’ 
 
ii8 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act ii. 
 
 86. taxing, censure. See above, 1 . 71. 
 
 88. eat, eaten. For this form of the participle see Lear, i. 4.174 1 ‘ Why 
 after I have cut the egg i’ the middle, and eat up the meat, the two crowns 
 of the egg.’ And Richard II, v. 5. 85. 
 
 89. Nor shall not. See ii. 3. 50. 
 
 90. Of what hind shoidd this cock come of. For the repetition of the 
 preposition see below, 1 . 139 : ‘ Wherein we play in.’ And Coriolanus, ii. 1. 
 18 : ‘In what enormity is Marcius poor in V Capell omitted the first ‘ of,’ 
 Rowe the second. 
 
 92. Or else. ‘ Else ’ is redundant here, as in Lucrece, 875 : 
 
 ‘ Or kills his life or else his quality.’ 
 
 93. civility, politeness, in a higher sense than it is used in at present. See 
 iii. 2. 116, and Merchant of Venice, ii. 2. 204: ‘Use all the observance of 
 civility.’ And Midsummer Night’s Dream, ii. I. 152. 
 
 94. my vein, my disposition or humour. Compare Midsummer Night’s 
 Dream, iii. 2. 82 : 
 
 ‘ There is no following her in this fierce vein.’ 
 
 96. inland bred, bred in the interior of the country in the heart of the 
 population and therefore in the centre of refinement and culture, as opposed 
 to those born in remote upland or outlying districts. See iii. 2. 319. 
 
 97. nurture, education, good breeding. Compare The Tempest, iv. 1.189 : 
 
 ‘ A devil, a born devil, on whose nature 
 Nurture can never stick.’ 
 
 See also Lodge’s Novel, p. 55 : ‘ Oh, Saladyne, the faults of thy youth, as 
 they were fond, so were they foule, and not onely discovering little nourture, 
 but blemishing the excellence of nature.’ 
 
 98. this fridt. See note on ii. 5. 58. 
 
 99. answered, satisfied. Compare Julius Caesar, v. I. I: 
 
 ‘ Now, Antony, our hopes are answered. 5 
 
 100. reason. Jaques was quite capable of punning upon ‘reason’ and 
 * raisin,’ as he had already done on ‘ why * and ‘ way,’ and therefore Staunton 
 conjectured that we should here read ‘ reasons.’ See 1 Henry IV, ii. 4. 264. 
 
 104. and let me have it. For this use of ‘ and ’ in the sense of ‘ and so ’ 
 or ‘ and therefore’ see below, 1 . 135, and The Tempest, i. 2. 186 : 
 
 ‘ ’Tis a good dulness. 
 
 And give it way.’ 
 
 109. commandment, command. See Bacon, Advancement of Learning, 
 I. 8. § 3 : ‘We see the dignity of the commandment is according to the 
 dignity of the commanded : to have commandment over beasts, as herdmen 
 have, is a thing contemptible: to have commandment over children, as 
 schoolmasters have, is a matter of small honour: to have commandment 
 over galley-slaves is a disparagement rather than an honour.’ The word is 
 printed in the folios with an apostrophe, ‘ command’ment,’ a relic cf the 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 sc. 7*1 
 
 II 9 
 
 quadrisyllabic form of the word which exists in The Passionate Pilgrim, 
 418; 
 
 * If to women he be bent, 
 
 They have at commandement.* 
 
 See note on the Merchant of Venice, iv. 1. 447 * 
 
 114. knoll'd. Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) gives, ‘ Carillonner. To chyme,,or 
 knowle, bells. 8 So also Palsgrave, ‘ I knolle a belle. Je frappe du batant.’ 
 
 118. my strong enforcement , that which strongly supports my peti¬ 
 tion. 
 
 125. upon command , in answer to your command, according to any order 
 you may give; and so, at your pleasure. So in The Taming of the Shrew, 
 
 ^ 5, 1 upon entreaty’ denotes, in answer to entreaty . 
 
 ‘ Beggars, that come unto my father’s door, 
 
 Upon entreaty have a present alms.’ 
 
 128. Whiles, the genitive of * while, 1 as ‘ needs ’ of * need.’ 
 
 132. two weak evils, age and hunger, that is, two evils which are the 
 causes of weakness. For this use of the adjective, which the grammarians 
 call proleptic or anticipatory, attributing to the cause what belongs to the 
 
 effect, compare Macbeth, iii. 4. 7 ^ : 
 
 * Ere humane statute purged the gentle weal’; 
 
 that is, purged the commonwealth and made it gentle. 
 
 135. and. See above, 1 . 104. 
 
 139. Wherein we play in. See above, 1 . 9°- 
 
 Ih. All the world's a stage. See Preface. 1 Totus mundus agit his- 
 trionem,’ from a fragment of- Petronius, is said to have been the motto 
 on the Globe Theatre. Compare The Merchant of Venice, i. 1. 78, 
 
 where Antonio calls the world 
 
 ‘ a stage where every man must play a part.’ 
 
 143. At first. Capell reads ‘As first.’ Another has proposed ‘Act 
 
 first.’ 1 
 
 144. Mewling. Cotgrave gives, ‘ Miauler. To mewle, or mew, like a 
 cat/ 
 
 148. Sighing like furnace, as the furnace sends out smoke. Compare 
 Cymbeline, i. 6 . 66: 
 
 J * He furnaces 
 
 The thick sighs from him.’ 
 
 And Love’s Labour’s Lost, iv. 3 - 14 0 " 
 
 « I heard your guilty rhymes, observed your fashion, 
 
 Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion.’ 
 
 Ih. woeful, expressive of grief. So Venus and Adonis, 836 : 
 
 ‘ She marking them begins a wailing note 
 And sings extemporally a woeful ditty.’ 
 iso. Full of strange oaths. Compare Henry V, iii. 6, 78, See. : ‘And 
 
120 
 
 NOTES, 
 
 [act II. 
 
 this they con perfectly in the phrase of war, which they trick up with new- 
 tuned oaths : and what a beard of the general’s cut and a horrid suit of the 
 camp will do among foaming bottles and ale-washed wits, is wonderful to 
 be thought on.’ 
 
 Ib. bearded like the pard, with long pointed mustaches, bristling like a 
 panther’s or leopard’s feelers. See note on The Tempest, iv. I. 257. ‘ The 
 Perde is called Perdus, as Isidore sayth, is the most swift beast, with 
 many diuers coulours and rounde speckes, as the Panther, and reeseth 
 [rushes violently] to bloud, and dyeth in leaping, and varyeth not from 
 the Panther, but the Panther hath moe white speckes.’ Batman vppon 
 Bartholome, xviii. 83, fol. 376 b. 
 
 151. sudden, hasty. Compare The Tempest, ii. 1. 306, and King John, 
 iv. 1. 27 : 
 
 ‘ Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch.’ 
 
 156. saws , sayings, maxims. See iii. 5. 80; Hamlet, i. 5. 100: 
 
 ‘ All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past.’ 
 
 And Lucrece, 244 : 
 
 ‘ Who fears a sentence or an old man’s saw 
 Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe.’ 
 
 Ib. modern, commonplace, of every-day occurrence. See iv. I. 6; 
 Macbeth, iv. 3. 170 : 
 
 ‘ Where violent sorrow seems 
 
 A modern ecstasy.’ 
 
 And Antony and Cleopatra, v. 2. 167 : 
 
 ‘ Immoment toys, things of such dignity 
 
 As we greet modern friends withal.’ 
 
 158. pantaloon. The word and character were borrowed from the 
 Italian stage. Todd in his edition of Johnson’s Dictionary quotes from 
 Addison’s Remarks on several parts of Italy [Works, ed. 1721, ii. 35] an 
 account of the plays in Venice : ‘ There are four standing characters which 
 enter into every piece that comes on the stage ; the Doctor, Harlequin, Pan- 
 talone, and Coviello . ... Pantalone is generally an old Cully, and Coviello a 
 Sharper. Torriano in his Italian Dictionary (1659) gives, ‘ Pantalone, 
 a Pantalone, a covetous and yet amorous old dotard, properly applyed in 
 Comedies unto a Venetian.’ St. Pantaleon was the patron saint of Venice. 
 Capell quotes from a play called The Travels of three English Brothers, which 
 
 was printed in 1607, a dialogue between an Italian Harlequin and Kemp 
 the actor: 
 
 Harl. Marry sir, first we will have an old Pantaloune. 
 
 Kemp. Some iealous Coxcombe. 
 
 Harl. Right, and that part will I play.’ 
 
 Steevens gives a stage direction from The Plotte of the Deade Mans 
 Fortune, ‘ Enter the panteloun and pescode with spectakles.’ 
 
SC. 7.] 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 121 
 
 160. hose. See ii. 4. 6. 
 
 lb. a world too wide. Compare All’s Well that Ends Well, i. I. 187 ’• 
 
 ‘ With a world 
 
 Of pretty, fond, adoptious Christendoms.’ 
 
 And Skelton, The Bowge of Courte, 464 (vol. i. p. 47, e d. Dyce) : 
 
 * It is a worlde, I saye, to here of some.’ 
 
 163. his, its. The neuter possessive pronoun, although used, was of 
 rare occurrence in Shakespeare’s time. See note on The Tempest, i. 2. 95. 
 
 175. unkind, unnatural. This literal sense of the word appears to be the 
 most prominent here. Compare King Lear, iii. 4. 73 : 
 
 ‘ Nothing could have subdued nature 
 
 To such a lowness but his unkind daughters.’ 
 
 178. Because thou art not seen. Warburton proposed, with an amount of 
 confidence which is only equalled by the certainty that his conjecture is 
 wrong, to read, ‘Because thou art not sheen. Johnson defended the o.d 
 reading and gave the obvious sense of the passage, ‘ thy rudeness gives the 
 less pain, as thou art not seen, as thou art an enemy that dost not brave us 
 with thy presence, and whose unkindness is therefore not aggravated by 
 insult.’ Capell compares King Lear, iii. 2. 16 : 
 
 ‘ I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness; 
 
 I never gave you kingdom, call’d you children, 
 
 You owe me no subscription.’ 
 
 182. Then, heigh-ho, &c. ‘Then’ is Rowe’s emendation for ‘The’ of 
 the folios. 
 
 187. Though thou the ivaters warp. In the A. S . weorpan, or wyrpan, 
 from which ‘warp’ is derived, there are the two ideas of throwing and turn¬ 
 ing. By the former of these it is connected with the German werfen, and 
 by the latter with A. S. hweorfan and Goth, hvairban. The prominent idea 
 of the English ‘ warp ’ is that of turning or changing, from which that of 
 shrinking or contracting as wood does is a derivative. So in Measure for 
 Measure, i. I. 15, Shakespeare uses it as equivalent to ‘swerve,’ to which 
 
 it may be etymologically akin : 
 
 ‘ There is our commission, 
 
 From which we would not have you warp. 
 
 Hence * warped ’ = distorted in King Lear, iii. 6. 56 : 
 
 ‘ And here’s another, whose warp’d looks proclaim 
 What store her heart is made on. 
 
 With which compare Winter’s Tale, i. 2. 365 : 
 
 ‘ This is strange : methinks 
 My favour here begins to warp.’ 
 
 And All’s Well that Ends Well, v. 3. 49 : 
 
 ‘ Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me 
 Which warp’d the line of every other favour.’ 
 
122 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act. ii 0 SC. 7 . 
 
 In the present passage Shakespeare seems to have had the same idea in his 
 mind. The effect of the freezing wind is to change the aspect of the water, 
 and we need not go so far as Whiter, who insists that ' warp v here means to 
 contract, and so accurately describes the action of frost upon water. A 
 fragment from a collection of gnomic sayings preserved in Anglo-Saxon in the 
 Exeter MS. has been quoted by Holt White and repeated by subsequent 
 commentators under the impression that it illustrates this passage. This 
 impression is founded on a mistake. As it is quoted the sentence stands 
 thus, * winter sceal geweorpan weder,’ which White renders 4 winter shall 
 warp water.’ But unfortunately * water ’ is not mentioned, and the word so 
 rendered is 4 weather,’ that is, 4 fair weather,’ and is moreover the subject ot 
 the following and not the object of the preceding verb. Caldecott quotes 
 from Golding’s Ovid, Book II. [fol. 22 b, ed. 1603], part of the description 
 of Callisto’s metamorphosis into a bear, 
 
 4 Her handes gan warpe and into pawes ylfauouredly to grow’; 
 where the Latin is 
 
 4 Curvarique manus et aduncos crescere in ungues.’ 
 
 Here again the idea of bending or turning, and so distorting, is the pro¬ 
 minent one. We may therefore understand by the warping of the waters, 
 either the change produced in them by the action of the frost, or the bending 
 and ruffling of their surface caused by the wintry wind. 
 
 189. As friend remember’d not. Hanmer read 4 remembering,’ and 
 Malone endeavoured to shew, not very satisfactorily, that ‘remember’d’ and 
 ‘remembering’ were the same, because 4 1 am remembered’ = I remember, 
 as in iii. 5. 130. But in this case ‘remember’ signifies 4 to remind,’ or 4 put 
 in mind,’ as in The Tempest, i. 2. 243 : 
 
 4 Let me remember thee what thou hast promised.’ 
 
 In the present passage 4 friend remember’d not ’ is put as a parallel to 
 4 benefits forgot,’ and as this is practically equivalent to 4 the forgetting of 
 benefits,’ so the former is rather inexactly put for 4 the being forgotten as a 
 friend.’ 
 
 191, 192. For 4 were’ in both these lines Dyce conjectured 4 are.’ 
 
 193. e ffigi- es * likeness. 
 
 194. limn’d, drawn and painted. Compare Venus and Adonis, 290 : 
 
 4 Look when a painter would surpass the life. 
 
 In limning out a well-proportion’d steed.’ 
 
 4 Dislimn’ occurs in Antony and Cleopatra, iv. 14. 10. The word is derived 
 from the French enluminer, which Cotgrave renders, 4 To illuminate, in- 
 lighten, cleere, brighten, illustrate; also, to sleeke, or burnish ; also, llmne.’ 
 
 198. master. The first folio has ‘masters.’ See i. 2. 94. 
 
ACT III. SC. I.] 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 123 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 2. the better fart, the greater part. Compare ‘ all points,'' i. 3. 113. 
 
 3. argument. See i. 2. 262. 
 
 4. thou present, that is, thou being present. Compare Richard II, i. 3. 
 259; 
 
 ‘ Joy absent, grief is present for that time.’ 
 
 6. Seek him with candle. A reference to Luke xv. 8. 
 
 16. my officers of such a nature, whose especial duty it is. In modern 
 usage, as compared with that of Shakespeare’s time, ‘ nature’ and ‘ kind ’ 
 have been interchanged. Bacon in his Essay of Gardens speaks of ‘ lilies 
 of all natures.’ 
 
 17. Make an extent upon his house and la?ids. "Upon all debts of record 
 due to the Crown, the sovereign has his peculiar remedy by writ of extent; 
 which differs in this respect from an ordinary writ of execution at suit of the 
 subject, that under it the body, lands and goods of the debtor may be all 
 taken at once, in order to compel the payment of the debt. And this pro¬ 
 ceeding is called an extent, from the words of the writ ; which directs the 
 sheriff to cause the lands, goods and chattels to be appraised at their full, or 
 extended, value ( extendi facias), before they are delivered to satisfy the debt.’ 
 Stephen’s Commentaries on the Laws of England (sixth ed.), iv. 80. Lord 
 Campbell (Shakespeare’s Legal Acquirements) quotes this passage as an 
 example of Shakespeare’s ‘ deep technical knowledge of law,’ the writ extendi 
 facias applying to houses and lands, as fieri facias to goods and chattels, and 
 capias ad satisfaciendum to the person. The word 4 extent’ is used in the 
 sense of a writ in Massinger, The City Madam, v. 2 : 
 
 4 1 grant your person to be privileged 
 From all arrests; yet there lives a foolish creature 
 Call’d an under-sheriff, who being well paid will servo 
 An extent on lords’ or lowns 9 land.’ 
 
 Compare also A New Way to pay Old Debts, v. I: 
 
 4 But when 
 
 This manor is extended to my use, 
 
 You’ll speak in an humbler key, and sue for favour.’ 
 
 18. expediently, speedily, expeditiously. ‘Expedient ’ is used for ‘expedi¬ 
 tious’ in King John, ii. I. 60 : 
 
 4 His marches are expedient to this town.’ 
 
 And in Richard II. i. 4. 39: ‘Expedient manage must be made.’ 
 
124 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act III. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 2. thrice-crowned, ruling in heaven, on earth, and in the underworld as 
 Luna, Diana, and Hecate. The memorial lines are given by Johnson : 
 
 ‘ Terret, lustrat, agit, Proserpina, Luna, Diana, 
 
 Ima, superna, feras, sceptro, fulgore, sagittis.’ 
 
 Singer quotes from one of Chapman’s Hymns (Hymnus in Cynthiam) a 
 passage which may have been in Shakespeare’s mind : 
 
 ‘Nature’s bright eye-sight, and the night’s fair soul, 
 
 That with thy triple forehead dost control 
 Earth, seas, and hell.’ 
 
 Compare also Midsummer Night’s Dream, v. I. 391 : 
 
 ‘ By the triple Hecate’s team.’ 
 
 Hecate was frequently represented in ancient art with three heads. 
 
 6. character, inscribe. With a different accent in Hamlet, i. 3. 59 ; 
 
 ‘ And these few precepts in thy memory 
 See thou character.’ 
 
 10. unexpressive, that cannot be expressed. Milton possibly had this 
 passage in his mind in Lycidas, 176: 
 
 ‘And hears the unexpressive nuptial song.’ 
 
 See also The Hymn to the Nativity, 116. Words similarly formed and 
 used by Shakespeare are ‘directive’ (Troilus and Cressida, i. 3. 356), ‘ plau- 
 sive’ (Hamlet, i. 4. 30), and ‘insuppressive’ (Julius Caesar, ii. 1. 134). 
 lb, she, used for ‘ woman,’ as in Sonnet cxxx. 14: 
 
 * I think my love as rare 
 As any she belied with false compare.’ 
 
 Compare Cymbeline, i. 3. 29 : 
 
 ‘ The shes of Italy should not betray 
 Mine interest and his honour.’ 
 
 And The Taming of the Shrew, iii. 2. 236 : 
 
 * I’ll bring mine action on the proudest he 
 That stops my way in Padua.’ 
 
 See also in the present scene, line 362. 
 
 14. naught, bad, worthless. The old English forms of the word are 
 niiwiht, nd-uht, and tidht, the same as ‘no whit’ and the negative of 
 ‘ aught.’ See i. 1. 31. 
 
 16. vile, spelt ‘ vild’ in the folios. 
 
 20. Hast. For the omission of the pronoun compare Twelfth Night, ii. 
 3. 122 : ‘Art any more than a steward?’ 
 
 28. may complain of good breeding, that is, of the want of good breeding. 
 See ii. 4. 69. 
 
 35. all on one side is explanatory of ‘ ill-roasted’ and not of ‘ dam led.’ 
 
SC. 2.] 
 
 AS VOU LIKE IT. 
 
 12 
 
 A 
 
 41. parlous, perilous, dangerous. See Richard III, ii. 4. 35 : ‘A parlous 
 boy’; where the quartos read ‘perilous.’ The spelling represents the pro¬ 
 nunciation. 
 
 42. Not a whit. As ‘ not’ is itself a contraction of ncvwiht , or nawhit, 
 ‘ not a whit’ is redundant. 
 
 44. mockable, liable to ridicule. 
 
 48. still, constantly. Compare Hamlet, ii. 2. 42: 
 
 ‘ Thou still hast been the father of good news.’ 
 
 And The Tempest, i. 2. 229: ‘ the still-vex’d Bermoothes.’ 
 
 Ib. fells, the skins of sheep with the wool on. Compare Lear, v. 3. 24, 
 and Macbeth, v. 5. II: 
 
 ‘ My fell of hair 
 
 Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir 
 
 As life were in’t.’ j 
 
 Florio (Ital. Diet.) has, ‘ Velio, a fleece, a fell or skin that hath wooll on.’ 
 Again in Chapman’s translation of the Georgies of Hesiod (ed. Hooper), i. 
 
 364 ‘ ‘In dales 
 
 Th* industrious bee her honey sweet exhales, 
 
 And full-fell’d sheep are shorn with festivals.’ 
 
 In Job ii. 4 the earlier of the Wicliflite versions has, ‘Fel for tel, and alle 
 thingus that a man hath he shulde jiue for his soule. 
 
 51. a mutton, a sheep. Like ‘ beef,’ the word is now only used of the 
 flesh of the slaughtered animal. Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) gives : ‘ Mouton : m. 
 A Mutton, a Weather; also, Mutton.’ Compare The Merchant of Venice, 
 
 i. 3. 168: „ , 
 
 ‘ As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. 
 
 55. A more sounder instance. For the double comparative see The 
 
 Tempest, i. 2. 439: 
 
 ‘ The Duke of Milan 
 
 And his more braver daughter could control thee. 
 
 59. thou worms-meat. It is not impossible that this expression may have 
 struck Shakespeare in a book which he evidently read, the treatise of 
 Vincentio Saviolo (see v. 4. 83), in which a printer's device is found w,th 
 the motto, ‘O wormes meate: O froath: O vanitie: why art thou so 
 
 insolent.’ , , 
 
 60. perpend, reflect, consider. An affected word put into the mouth ot 
 
 Such characters as Polonius and Ancient Pistol. Compare Hamlet, 11. 2. 105, 
 and The Merry Wives of Windsor, ii. I. 119: ^ 
 
 ‘He loves the gallimaufry: Ford, perpend.’ 
 
 65. God make incision in thee l As Heath explains, ‘ God give thee i 
 better understanding, thou art very raw and simple as yet; ’ in allusion ‘ to 
 the common proverbial saying, concerning a very silly fellow, that he ought 
 
126 
 
 NOTES . 
 
 [act III. 
 
 to be cut for the simples.’ The reference is to the old method of cure for 
 most maladies by blood-letting. See Love’s. Labour’s Lost, iv. 3. 97: 
 
 ‘ A fever in your blood ! why, then incision 
 Would let her out in saucers : sweet misprision !’ 
 
 Ib. raw, untrained, untutored. So in Richard II, ii. 3. 42 : 
 
 ‘ I tender you my service. 
 
 Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young.’ 
 
 68. glad, that is, am glad. 
 
 Ib. content with my harm, patient under my own misfortunes. 
 
 77. east, eastern, belongs to ‘ Ind.’ 
 
 Ib. Itid. Compare The Tempest, ii. 2. 61 : ‘ Do you put tricks upon’s 
 with savages and men of Ind, ha ? ’ And for the pronunciation see Love’s 
 Labour’s Lost, iv. 3. 222 : 
 
 ‘ Like a rude and savage man of Inde,’ 
 where it rhymes with ‘ blind.’ 
 
 81. lined, drawn. The first three folios have ‘ Linde,’ the fourth * Lind.' 
 Capell reads ‘ limn’d.’ 
 
 S3, face. So the folios. Sidney Walker, with great probability, conjec¬ 
 tured ‘ fair,’ to correspond with the following. 
 
 84. fair, beauty. Compare Sonnet Ixxxiii. 2: 
 
 ‘ I never saw that you did painting need 
 And therefore to your fair no painting set.* 
 
 For other instances of adjectives used as substantives see Venus and Adonis, 
 589 : 
 
 ‘ Whereat a sudden pale. 
 
 Like lawn being spread upon the blushing rose, 
 
 Usurps her cheek.’ 
 
 And A Lover’s Complaint, 95 : 
 
 ‘ Whose bare out-bragg’d the web it seem’d to wear.’ 
 
 In the present line Rowe in his second edition altered ‘ fair ’ to ‘ face.’ 
 
 86, 87. it is the right butter-women’s rank to market, going one after 
 another, at a jog-trot, like butterwomen going to market. This seems to 
 be the meaning if ‘ rank’ is the true reading. It is open to the rather 
 pedantic objection that it makes rank = file. But it may be used simply in 
 the sense of * order.’ Hanmer altered it to ‘ rate,’ and Grey for ‘ rate to 
 market ’ proposed to read * rant at market.’ I am rather inclined to con¬ 
 sider ‘ rack’ to be the proper word, and I would justify this conjecture by 
 the following quotations from Cotgrave’s French Dictionary: 
 
 ‘ Amble: f. An amble, pace, racke; an ambling, or racking pace; a 
 smooth, or easie gate.’ 
 
 4 Ambler. To amble, pace ; racke ; to go easily, and smoothly away.’ 
 
 In Holme’s Armoury (B. II. c. 10, p. 150) 4 rack’ is thus defined : 4 Rack is 
 a pace wherein the horse neither Trots or Ambles, but is between both.’ 
 
SC. 2 .] 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 127 
 
 ()2. Florio, in his Second Frutes, p. I 79 > has, ‘Cat after kinde will eitner 
 hunt or scratch.” 
 
 94. Winter. So the third and fourth folios. The first and second have 
 ‘ Wintred,’ which Mr. Grant White retains. Compare ‘ azured ’ in The 
 Tempest, v. I. 43, and perhaps '' damask’d,’ in Sonnet exxx. 5, quoted in note 
 on iii. 5. 122. 
 
 96. sheaf, gather into sheaves. See Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) : ‘ Gerber des 
 javelles. To bind come of swath into sheaues : to sheafe vp corne.’ 
 
 102. false gallop, the unnatural pace which a horse is taught to go; ap¬ 
 parently the same as a canter or Canterbury gallop, said to be so called from 
 being the pace adopted by pilgrims to the shrine of St. Thomas at Canter¬ 
 bury. Compare I Henry IV, iii. I. 135, where Hotspur says : 
 
 ‘ I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn’d, 
 
 Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree; 
 
 And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, 
 
 Nothing so much as mincing poetry: 
 
 ’Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag.’ 
 
 Puttenham (quoted by Caldecott) in his Arte of English Poesie (p. 76,. ed. 
 Arber) uses the term ‘riding ryme’ in speaking of Chaucer’s verse in a 
 manner which throws light upon the present passage : ‘ His meetre Heroicall 
 of Troilus and Cresseid is very graue and stately, keeping the staffe of seuen 
 and the verse of ten, his other verses of the Canterbury tales be but riding 
 ryme, neverthelesse very well becomming the matter of that pleasaunt pil¬ 
 grimage in which euery mans part is playd with much decency. Malone 
 quotes from Nash’s Apologie of Pierce Pennilesse, 4to. 1593 : ‘ I would trot 
 a false gallop through the rest of his ragged verses, but that if I should retort 
 the rime doggrell aright, I must make my verses (as he doth his) run 
 hobbling, like a brewer’s cart upon the stones, and observe no measure in 
 their feet.’ See also Much Ado about Nothing, iii. 4 * 94 * 
 
 ‘ Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps ? 
 
 Marg. Not a false gallop.’ 
 
 106. graff. The old form of ‘ graft,’ from French greffer. Compare 
 
 •' hoise’ and ‘ hoist ’; and see 2 Henry IV, v. 3. 3 : ‘ N ^> ) r ° u sha]1 see 
 orchard, where in an arbour we will eat a last year s pippin of my own 
 graffing.’ Shakespeare also uses ‘ graft,’ as in Richard II, m. 4. 101: 
 
 ‘Pray God the plants thou graft’st may never grow.’ 
 
 107. a medlar. For the pun upon ‘ medlar’ compare Timon of Athens, 
 
 iv. 3. 307-309 : 
 
 ‘ Apem. Dost hate a medlar ? 
 
 Tim. Ay, though it look like thee. 
 
 Apem. An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner thou shouldst have loved 
 thyself better now.’ 
 
 Ib. the earliest fruit, not because it ripens soonest, for this is not the case 
 
NOTES. 
 
 128 
 
 [act III. 
 
 with the medlar, but because it is rotten before it is ripe and so may be said 
 to be in advance of other fruit. 
 
 109. right, true. See above, I. 86, and Antony and Cleopatra, iv. 12. 28 : 
 * Like a right gipsy.’ 
 
 113. a desert. So Rowe. The folios have simply ‘desert.’ Steevetis 
 adopted Tyrwhitt’s conjecture, ‘Why should this desert silent be?’ 
 
 114. For . because. Compare The Merchant of Venice, i. 3. 43 : 
 
 ‘ I hate him for he is a Christian.’ 
 
 116. civil sayings, the sayings or maxims of civilisation and refinement. 
 Johnson says, ‘ This desert shall not appear unpeopled, for every tree shall 
 teach the maxims or incidents of social life.’ For ‘civil’ in this sense 
 compare Midsummer Night’s Dream, ii. 1. 152 : 
 
 ‘ Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath 
 That the rude sea grew civil at her song.’ 
 
 And iii. 2. 147 of the same play : 
 
 * If you were civil and knew courtesy.’ 
 
 119. erring, wandering; not used here in a moral sense. See Hamlet, 
 i. I. 154: ‘The extravagant and erring spirit.’ The word occurs in its 
 literal sense, though with a figurative reference, in Isaiah xxxv. 8: ‘The 
 wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein.’ For ‘wandering stars’ in 
 the Authorised Version of Jude 13, the Wicliffite versions have ‘ erringe 
 sterres.’ 
 
 120. That, so that. 
 
 Ib. a span. See Psalm xxxix. 6, Prayer Book Version, * Behold, thou 
 hast made my days as it were a span long.’ 
 
 121. Buckles in, encompasses. So in Troilus and Cressida, ii. 2. 30: 
 
 ‘ And buckle in a waist most fathomless 
 With spans and inches so diminutive 
 As fears and reasons.’ 
 
 I25. sentence end. For the omission of the mark of the possessive see 
 below, line 237, and Abbott, § 217. 
 
 128. quintessence, the fifth essence, called also by the mediaeval philo¬ 
 sophers the spirit or soul of the world, ‘ whome we tearme the quinticense, 
 because he doth not consist of the foure Elementes, but is a certaine fifth, a 
 thing aboue them or beside them .... This spirit doubtlesse is in a manner 
 such in the body of the world, as ours is in mans body: For as the powers 
 of our soule, are through the spirit giuen to the members: so the vertue of 
 the soule of y e world is by the quintecense spread ouer all, for nothing is 
 found in all the world which wanteth the sparke of his vertue ’ (Batman 
 vppon Bartholome, fol. 173 a). See Hamlet, ii. 2. 3 2f * 
 
 129. in little, in miniature. So in Hamlet, ii. 2. 383: ‘And those that 
 would make mows at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an 
 hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little.’ 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 129 
 
 sc. 2.] 
 
 131, &c. Compare The Tempest, iii. 1. 48: 
 
 ‘ But you, O you, 
 
 So perfect and so peerless, are created 
 Of every creature’s best!’ 
 
 136. Atalanta's better part has given occasion to much discussion. 
 Steevens was probably right in saying it was that for which she was most 
 commended, but the question still remains what this was. In the story of 
 Atalanta as told in Ovid (Met. x.), where Shakespeare may have read it in 
 Golding’s translation, it is clearly her beauty and grace of form which 
 attracted her suitors to compete in the race with her at the risk of 
 being the victims of her cruelty. For instance, Hippomenes, looking on at 
 first with a feeling of contempt, begins to think the prize worth competing 
 for: 
 
 * And though that she 
 
 Did flie as swift as Arrow from a Turkie bow: yet hee 
 More woondred at her beautie, then at swiftnesse of her pace, 
 
 Her running greatly did augment her beautie and her grace.’ 
 
 (Golding’s trans. ed. 1603, fol. 128.) 
 
 It certainly could not have been her wit, as Dr. Farmer thought, for which 
 she is not known to have been celebrated. In a subsequent passage indeed, 
 Jaques compares the quickness of Orlando’s wit to the swiftness of Atalanta’s 
 heels, but this is a very different thing. Malone made a curious mistake 
 in supposing that Atalanta’s lips were her better part, because in Marston’s 
 Insatiate Countess (Works, ed. Halliwell, iii. 107), he found, 
 
 * Those lips were hers that won the golden ball,’ 
 evidently forgetting Venus and the judgement of Paris. Whiter is of opinion 
 that Shakspeare may have had in his mind while writing this passage some 
 pictures or tapestry in which were represented Helen, Cleopatra, Atalanta, and 
 Lucretia. Such may very well have been the case, and it is known that 
 cameos representing classical subjects were much in request. Pliny, in a 
 passage quoted by Toilet, speaks of two frescoes at Lanuvium in his own 
 time ‘ of ladie Atalanta and queene Helena, close one to the other, painted 
 naked, by one and the same hand: both of them are for beautie incom¬ 
 parable, and yet a man may discerne the one of them to be a maiden by her 
 modest and chast countenance ’ (xxxv. 3, trans. Holland). On an amethyst 
 in the Berlin Museum is a figure of ‘ Atalanta, looking back in the midst of 
 the race to pick up the golden apple thrown down by her competitor, 
 Hippomenes,’ which Mr. King describes as ‘ Greek work of the most perfect 
 style’ (Horatii Opera, ed. King and Munro, p. 410). Kalander’s pleasure- 
 house in the Arcadia (Lib. i. p. 3, ed. 1598) was adorned with pictures, one 
 of which was of Atalanta, ‘the posture of whose limmes was so liuely 
 expressed, that if the eyes were the only iudges, as they be the only seers, 
 one would haue sworn the very picture had run.’ 
 
 K 
 
NOTES. 
 
 [act III. 
 
 130 
 
 137. Sad, grave, serious, with some reflexion of the more common meaning 
 of the word. Compare The Merchant of Venice, ii. 2. 205 : 
 
 ‘ Like one well studied in a sad ostent 
 To please his grandam’; 
 
 where ‘ sad ostent ’ is an assumed appearance of gravity or seriousness. 
 
 138-141. Shakespeare may have remembered the story of Zeuxis as told 
 by Pliny (xxxv. 9, trans. Holland), ‘ that when hee should make a table with 
 a picture for the Agrigentines, to be set up in the temple of Iuno Lacinia, at 
 the charges of the citie, according to a vow that they had made, hee would 
 needs see all the maidens of the citie, naked ; and from all that companie hee 
 chose five of the fairest to take out as from severall patterns, whatsoever hee 
 liked best in any of them ; and of all the lovely parts of those five, to make 
 one bodie of incomparable beautie.’ 
 
 139. Marston had apparently this passage in his mind when, after a similar 
 enumeration, he wrote [Insatiate Countesse, i. 1 1 Works, ed. Halliwell, 
 iii. 107): 
 
 ‘ Here they meete, 
 
 As in a sacred synod.’ 
 
 141. touches, traits. See v. 4. 27. 
 
 143. And I to live, &c. The construction is loose although the sense is 
 clear. We may regard the words as equivalent to ‘ And that I should live 
 &c.or supply some verb from ‘would’ of the previous line, as if it were 
 either ‘And I would live, or am willing to live, &c.’ 
 
 144. pulpiter. The conjecture of Mr. Spedding, adopted by Dyce (ed. 2) 
 and in the Globe edition, for the reading of the folios ‘ Iupiter,’ which it is 
 worthy of remark is not printed in italics as proper names usually are. 
 
 150. scrip. The pouch or scrip was as necessary a part of a shepherd’s 
 equipment as it was in David’s time. See I Sam. xvii. 4°- Compare 
 Sackville’s Induction (ed. 1587), fol. 209 a: 
 
 * With staffe in hand, and scrip on shoulder cast, 
 
 His chiefe defence agaynst the winters blast. 
 
 Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) has, ‘ Malette: f. A little male; a budget, or scrip. 
 Malette de bergier. A Shepheards scrip.’ And in Lodge’s novel (p. 70) 
 Ganimede invites Rosader (the original of Orlando) thus: ‘Therefore,forrester, 
 if thou wilt take such fare as comes out of our homely scrips, welcome shall 
 answere whatsoever thou wantest in delicates.’ 
 
 159, 160. how thy name should he hanged and carved, was said to be 
 hanged and carved. ‘Should’ is frequently used in giving a reported speech. 
 In this sense it occurs in George Fox’s Journal (p. 43 > e ^. * 7 ^ 5 )» q u °t e d by 
 Dr. Abbott (§ 328), who says it indicates a false story: ‘The priest of that 
 church raised many wicked slanders upon me: “ That I rode upon a 
 great black horse, and that I should give a fellow money to follow me when 
 J was on my black horse.’” Again in Ben Jonson, The Fox, ii. I : 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 SC. 2.] 
 
 * 3 * 
 
 *1 Sir P. Pray you, what news, sir, vents our climate? 
 
 I heard last night a most strange thing reported 
 By some of my lord’s followers, and I long 
 To hear how ’twill be seconded. 
 
 Per. What was’t, sir? 
 
 Sir P. Marry, sir, of a raven that should build 
 In a ship royal of the king’s.’ 
 
 161. seven out of the nine days that a wonder usually lasts. Compare 
 3 Henry VI, iii. 2. 113, 114: 
 
 ‘ Glou. That would be ten days’ wonder at the least. 
 
 Clar. That’s a day longer than a wonder lasts.’ 
 
 162. on a palm-tree. Those who desire that Shakespeare shall be 
 
 infallible on all subjects human and divine explain the palm-tree in this 
 passage as the goat willow, the branches of which are still carried and put 
 up in churches on Palm Sunday (see Brand’s Popular Antiquities, i. 127, ed. 
 Ellis). But as the forest of Arden is taken from Lodge’s novel, it is more 
 likely that the trees in it came from the same source. This is certainly the 
 ease with the ‘ tuft of olives ’ in iii. 5. 74. Lodge’s forest was such as could 
 only exist in the novelist’s fancy, for besides pines, beech trees, and cypresses, 
 there were olives, figs, lemons and citrons, pomegranates and myrrh trees. 
 The palm is mentioned, but not as a forest tree, and only in figures of speech; 
 as for example, * Thou art old, Adam, and thy haires waxe white: the 
 palme tree is alreadie full of bloomes ’ (Euphues Golden Legacie, ed. Collier, 
 p. 50). . 
 
 163. since Pythagoras' time. The doctrine of the transmigration of souls 
 is referred to again by Shakespeare in The Merchant of Venice, iv. I. 131, 
 and Twelfth Night, iv. 2. 54-60. 
 
 164. an Irish rat. The belief that rats were rhymed to death in Ireland 
 is frequently alluded to in the dramatists. Steevens quotes from Ben 
 Jonson’s Poetaster, To the Reader: 
 
 ‘ Rhime them to death, as they do Irish rats 
 In drumming tunes.’ 
 
 Malone quotes from Sidney’s Apologie for Poetrie [ed. Arber, p. 7 2 1 * 
 ‘Though I will not wish vnto you, the Asses eares of Midas, nor to bee driuen 
 by a Poets verses, (as Bubonax was) to hang himselfe, nor to be rimed to 
 death, as is sayd to be doone in Ireland, yet thus much curse I must send 
 you.’ In Scot’s Discovery of Witchcraft [Bk. iii. c. 15, P- 35 * e ^- I 665], 
 quoted by Dr. Kingsley in Notes and Queries, 1st Ser. vi. 59 t ^ ie P ower °f 
 magic incantations is said to be claimed by the Irish witches : * The Irishmen 
 addict themselves wonderfully to the credit and practice hereof; insomuch 
 as they affirm, that not only their children, but their cattel, are (as they call 
 it) eye-bitten, when they fall suddenly sick, and tearm one sort of their 
 Witches eye-biters; only in that respect: yea and they will not stick to 
 
 K 2 
 
1 3 2 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act III. 
 
 affirm, that they can rime either man or beast to death.’ Randolph, in his 
 play, The Jealous Lovers, v. 2 (p. 156, ed. Hazlitt), has a reference to t e 
 
 same belief: > 
 
 ‘ If he provoke my spleen, I’ll have him know 
 
 I soldiers feed shall mince him, and my poets 
 Shall with a satire, steep’d in gall and vinegar, 
 
 Rhyme ’em to death, as they do rats in Ireland.’ 
 
 And Pope in his version of Donne’s Second Satire, 1 . 22 . 
 
 ‘One sings the fair: but songs no longer move; 
 
 No rat is rhymed to death, nor maid to love. 
 
 The supposed effect of music upon these animals will be present to t e 
 recollection of every one who has read Browning’s Pied Piper of Hamelin. 
 
 16*. Trow you, know you, can you tell. So Love’s Labour s Lost, v. 2. 
 270: ‘ And trow you what he called me ? ’ See Lear, i. 4. 2 34 • or ’ 
 know, nuncle, See.; where the quartos read «trow.’ ‘ Trow you who, &c. - 
 
 c Who do you think, &c.’ . . , 
 
 167. And a chain. See. This irregular and elliptical construction in which 
 
 ‘ and ’ does yeoman’s service for many words, may be illustrated, by the 
 following from Coriolanus, i. 1. 82: ‘Suffer us to tarnish, and their store¬ 
 houses crammed with grain.’ And Cymbehne, v. 4. I 79 * a , aU * 
 
 were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would 
 
 change places with his officer. . . , . 
 
 170. Ray in his collection of Proverbs gives, ‘ Fnenus may meet, but 
 
 mountains never greet.’ , 
 
 171. Toilet quotes from Pliny, ii. 83 (Hollands trans.) . . er P 
 
 pened once (which I found in the bookes of the Tuscanes learning) wit in 
 the territorie of Modena, (whiles L. Martius and Sex. Iulius were Comu ) 
 a great strange wonder of the Earth: for two hilles encountred toge er, 
 charging as it were, and with violence assaulting one another, yea and re¬ 
 tiring againe with a most mightie noise.’ There is of course no necessity tor 
 supposing that Shakespeare had such a passage in his nnnd. 
 
 175. petitionary, imploring, entreating. See Coriolanus, v. 2. 82 : ave 
 
 been blown out of your gates with sighs; and conjure thee to par on ome 
 
 and thy petitionary countrymen.’ . 
 
 170. out of all hooping, exceeding the limits of all exclamations of wonder. 
 Compare ‘ beyond all hoe,’ which occurs in the old play of Sir Thomas 
 More published bv the Shakespeare Society, p. 67. Similar expressions are 
 ‘ without all cry,’ ‘ out of all cry.’ See Chapman, The Blmde Begger of Alex¬ 
 andria (Works, i. p. 11) : ‘ Ohmayster tis without all these, and without al 
 
 crie.’ And in The Taming of a Shrew, sig. (c 4 ) verso : 
 
 ‘ I thinke I shall burst myselfe 
 With eating, for lie so cram me downe the tarts 
 And the marchpaines, out of all crie. 
 
SC. 2.] 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 J 33 
 
 ‘Hooping,’ the spelling of the early folios, was changed by Theobald to 
 ‘ whooping’ both here and in Henry V, ii. 2. 108, where the first folio 
 has : 
 
 ‘ That admiration did not hoope at them.’ 
 
 But the form ‘whoop’ was in early use. Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) gives; 
 
 * Hucher. To whoope, or hallow for; to call vnto.’ And earlier still, in 
 Palsgrave’s Lesclarcissement de la Langue Francoyse (1530), we find, ‘I 
 whoope, I call. Je huppe . . . Whooppe a lowde, and thou shake here hym 
 blowe his home : huppe hault, et tu lorras corner.’ 
 
 180. Good my complexion! Rosalind appeals to her complexion not to 
 betray her by changing colour. Several very unnecessary conjectures have 
 been made for the purpose of making clear what already seems plain. 
 
 181. a doublet and hose. See ii. 4. 6. 
 
 182. One inch of delay more is a South-sea of discovery, if you delay the 
 least to satisfy my curiosity I shall ask you in the interval so many more 
 questions that to answer them will be like embarking on a voyage of dis¬ 
 covery over a wide and unknown ocean. Compare Donne’s * Hymn to God, 
 my God, in my sickness,’ 1 . 9 : 
 
 ‘ Whilst my physitians by their love are grown 
 Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie 
 Flat on this bed, that by them may be shown 
 That this is my south-west discovery 
 Per fretum febris, by these straits to dye.’ 
 
 188. Is he of God’s making.? or his tailor’s? Compare Lear, ii. 2. 
 59, 60: ‘ You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee : a tailor made 
 thee.’ Stephens in his Essayes and Characters (2nd ed. 1615) has one ‘ My 
 Mistresse,’ of whom he says : ‘Her body is (I presume) of God’s making & 
 yet I cannot tell, for many parts thereof she made her selfe ’ (p. 391). 
 
 193. stay, wait for. So in the Authorised Version in the table of contents 
 to I Samuel xiv.: ‘ Saul, not staying the Priests answere, setteth on them.’ 
 See also Hamlet, v. 2. 24. 
 
 197. speak. The folios have no comma, and it is perhaps not necessary. 
 For the construction in this case compare Henry V, v. 2. 156 : ‘ I speak to 
 thee plain soldier.’ And Twelfth Night, i. 5. 115 : ‘He speaks nothing but 
 madman.’ See also below, 1 . 255. 
 
 Ib. sad brow, serious countenance. For ‘sad’ see above, 1 . 137, & 
 compare Much Ado about Nothing, i. I. 1S5 : ‘ Speak you this with a sad 
 brow ? ’ And 2 Henry IV, v. 1.92: ‘ O, it is much that a lie with a slight 
 oath and a jest with a sad brow will do with a fellow that never had the 
 ache in his shoulders ! ’ 
 
 204. Wherein went he? How was he dressed? Compare Much Ado 
 about Nothing, v. 1. 96: ‘ Go anticly,’ that is, are dressed in an antic cos¬ 
 tume. Again, Twelfth Night, iii. 4. 415: 
 
134 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act iii. 
 
 * And he went 
 
 Still in this fashion, colour, ornament.’ 
 
 lb. makes. See i. I. 26. 
 
 20S. Gargantua's mouth. Gargantua was the giant in Rabelais. Cot- 
 grave gives in his French Dictionary, ‘Gargantua. Great throat. Rab.’ 
 Steevens quotes from the registers of the Stationers’ Company two items, 
 shewing that in 1592 [April 6] was entered ‘Gargantua his prophesie,’ and 
 in 1594 [Dec. 4] ‘ A booke entituled, the historic of Gargantua &c.’ 
 
 209. To say ay and no. Compare Lear, iv. 6. 100. 
 
 215. atomies, the motes in the sunbeams. See iii. 5. 13. In Cockeram’s 
 Dictionarie (3rd ed. 1631) ‘ atomy’ is defined as ‘ A mote flying in the Sunne- 
 beames: any thing so small that it cannot be made lesse.’ Compare Romeo 
 and Juliet, i. 4. 57, where Queen Mab’s carriage is described as 
 * Drawn with a team of little atomies.' 
 
 lb. resolve, solve. Compare Pericles, i. 1. 71 : 
 
 ‘ As you will live, resolve it you.’ 
 
 And The Tempest, v. 1. 248. 
 
 217. observance , observation, attention. 
 
 219. Jove’s tree. See Virgil, Georgies, iii. 332 : 
 
 ‘ Sicubi magna Jovis antiquo robore quercus 
 Ingentes tendat ramos.’ 
 
 220, 221. drops forth such fruit. The first folio omits ‘such,’ which is 
 necessary to the sense, and is supplied in the later editions. See iv. 3. 34. 
 
 224, 5. it well becomes the ground, that is, the background of the picture. 
 Steevens compares Hamlet, v. 2. 413: 
 
 * Such a sight as this 
 
 ‘ Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss ’: 
 but ‘ field’ in this case means ‘ battle-field.’ 
 
 226. Cry holla to, check, restrain, a term of horsemanship. Cotgrave has, 
 ‘ Hola. (An Interiection) hoe there, enough, soft, soft, no more of that if 
 you love me ; also, heare you me, or come hither. 
 
 Faict au hola, Dutifull, obseruant, readie, at a becke, at call. 
 
 Faire le hola. To stop, stay, interrupt, bid stand ; also, to part a fray.’ 
 Compare Venus and Adonis, 284 : 
 
 ‘ What recketh he his rider’s angry stir, 
 
 His flattering. “Holla,” or his “Stand, I say”?’ 
 
 lb. thy tongue . Rowe’s correction. The folios have ‘ the tongue.’ 
 
 227. furnished, equipped, dressed. See Epilogue, 1 . 8. 
 
 228. to kill my heart. Spelt ‘ Hart’ in the folios. For the pun compare 
 Twelfth Night, iv. 1. 63: 
 
 ‘ Beshrew his soul for me, 
 
 He started one poor heart of mine in thee.’ 
 
 And Julius Caesar, iii. I. 208 : 
 
SC. 2.] 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 135 
 
 ‘ O world, thou wast the forest to this hart, 
 
 And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee.’ 
 
 229, 230. bringest me out of tune. See below, 1 . 233. 
 
 230. without a burden. * The burden of a song, in the old acceptation of 
 the word, was the base, foot, or under-song. It was sung throughout, and 
 not merely at the end of a verse ’ (Chappell, Popular Music of the Olden 
 Time, p. 122). See note on the Tempest, i. 2. 381. The old spelling is 
 ‘ burthen.’ 
 
 233. You bring me out, you put me out, make me forget my part. So 
 Love’s Labour’s Lost, v. 2. 171: 
 
 ‘They do not mark one, and that brings me out.’ 
 
 Compare B. Jonson, Every Man out of his Humour, Induction: ‘ I am un¬ 
 perfect, and had I spoke it, I must of necessity have been out.’ 
 
 236. lief. See i. I. I32,and Much Ado about Nothing, ii. 3. 84:. ‘I had 
 as lief have heard the night-raven.’ 
 
 239. God be wi you. Printed in the folios ‘ God buy you, which we 
 have still further changed to ‘ good-bye.’ 
 
 243. moe. The reading of the first folio, although two lines before it has 
 ‘ more ’ as the later folios have here. In Anglo-Saxon we find both md and 
 mar a, corresponding to ‘ mo ’ or ‘ moe,’ and * more. Alexander Gil dis¬ 
 tinguished them by making ‘moe’ the comparative of ‘ many’ and ‘ more’ 
 the comparative of ‘ much’ (Koch, Historische Grammatik d. Engl. Sprache, 
 
 ii. 209). But Butler (1633) gives both ‘ moe’ and ‘ more ’ as comparatives 
 of‘many.’ In the Authorised Version of 1611 ‘ moe’ frequently occurs (as in 
 Ex. i. 9 ; Num. xxii. 15, xxxiii. 54; Deut. i. 11), but is changed in modern 
 editions to ‘ more.’ The distinction appears to be that ‘ moe ’ is used only 
 with the plural, ‘ more ’ both with singular and plural. 
 
 246. just, just so, exactly so. So in Much Ado about Nothing, v. I. 
 164 : ‘ “ Nay,” said I, “ a good wit.” “ Just,” said she, “ it hurts nobody.” ’ 
 
 253. conned, learnt by heart, as a player his'part. So in Midsummer 
 Night’s Dream, i. I. 102 : ‘ Here are your parts: and I am to entreat you, 
 request you and desire you, to con them by tomorrow night. 
 
 254. rings. References to the posies in rings are to be found in Hamlet, 
 
 iii. 2. 162, and The Merchant of Venice, v. I. 148. They were written on 
 the inside in the 16th and 17th centuries and on the outside in the 14th 
 and 15th centuries (Fairholt, Costumes in England, p. 568). Compare Lyly s 
 Euphues (ed. Arber), p. 221 : ‘ Writing youf judgments as you do the posies 
 in your rings, which are alwayes next to the finger.’ For specimens of them 
 see Fairholt’s Rambles of an Archaeologist, pp. 142, 143. 
 
 255. right painted cloth. For ‘right’ compare 1 . 86, above. Hangings 
 for rooms were made of canvas painted with figures and mottoes or moral 
 sentences. The scenes were frequently of scripture subjects. Compare 
 1 Henry IV, iv. 2. 28: ‘Slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth.’ 
 
NOTES. 
 
 [act III. 
 
 136 
 
 And Lucrece, 245 : 
 
 ‘ Who fears a sentence or an old man’s saw 
 Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe.’ 
 
 Again in Randolph, The Muse’s Looking-glass, iii. 1 (p. 218, ed. Hazlitt) : 
 
 ‘ Then for the painting, I bethink myself 
 That I have seen in Mother Redcap’s hall, 
 
 In painted cloth, the story of the Prodigal.’ 
 
 The story of the Prodigal was a favourite one both for painted cloth and for 
 puppet-shows. See note on i. 1. 34, and 2 Henry IV, ii. 1. 157* ‘And for 
 thy walls, a pretty slight drollery, or the story of the Prodigal, or the German 
 hunting in water-work, is worth a thousand of these bed-hangings and these 
 fly-bitten tapestries.’ 
 
 260. no breather, no living being. So in Antony and Cleopatra, iii. 3. 24: 
 
 ‘ She shows a body rather than a life, 
 
 A statue than a breather.’ 
 
 And Sonnet lxxxi. 12 : 
 
 ‘ When all the breathers of this world are dead.’ 
 
 282-4. Compare Richard II, v. 5 - 50-58, for the same fancy. 
 
 291, 296. trot . . . ambles. Hunter proposed to exchange these terms in 
 the questions and corresponding answers. But the following definition from 
 Holme’s Armoury, B. II. c. 7, p. 150, justifies the original arrangement : 
 ‘ Trot, or a Trotting Horse, when he sets hard, and goes of an uneasy 
 rate.’ The point is not that Time goes fast, but that it goes at an uneasy 
 pace, and therefore seems to be slow. Compare for the same idea Much 
 Ado about Nothing, ii. I. 372: ‘Time goes on crutches till love have all 
 his rites.’ 
 
 294. a se'nnight or sevennight, a week. An old mode of reckoning 
 which still survives in provincial dialects : A.S. seofoti-niht. We retain it in 
 ‘ fortnight’ = fourteen night. Compare Much Ado about Nothing, ii. I. 375: 
 * Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night.’ 
 
 295. year. See note on The Tempest, i. 2. 53. The fourth folio has 
 ‘ years.’ 
 
 313. native as applied to persons is always an adjective in Shakespeare. 
 Compare Hamlet, i. 4. 14: 
 
 ‘ Though I am native here 
 And to the manner born.’ 
 
 314. cony, rabbit; Fr. connil, for which Cotgrave gives as the English 
 equivalents, ‘A Conie, a Rabbet.’ Both words are apparently used without 
 any distinction, and of both the etymology is uncertain. ‘ Cony ’ may be 
 traced through the Fr. connil and Ital. coniglio to the Latin cuniculus, but 
 beyond this nothing is known. 
 
 Ib. Vmdled , the technical term for the littering of rabbits. See Pals¬ 
 grave, Lesclarcissement de la langue Francoyse : ‘ I kyndyll, as a she hare or 
 
HS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 137 
 
 sc. 2 .] 
 
 cony dothe whan they bring forthe yonge. Je fays des petis.’ In the later 
 of the Wicliffite versions of Luke hi. 7, genimina viperum is rendered kynd- 
 lyngis of eddris.’ From A.S. cennan, to bring forth. 
 
 316. purchase, acquire. Compare The Tempest, iv. 1. 14 : 
 
 ‘ Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition 
 Worthily purchased, take my daughter. 
 
 And 1 Timothy hi. 13: ‘For they that have used the office of a deacon 
 well, purchase to themselves a good degree.’ 
 
 Ih. removed, remote, retired. See Hamlet, i. 4. 61: 
 
 ‘ It waves you to a more removed ground.’ 
 
 And Measure for Measure, i. 3 - ^ • 
 
 ‘ My holy sir, none better knows than you 
 
 How I have ever loved the life removed. 
 
 317. o/= by. See ii. 2. 50. 
 
 318. religious, that is, a member of some religious order. Compare v. 
 
 4. 152, 173. So in Richard II, v. I. 23 : 
 
 ‘ Hie thee to France, 
 
 And cloister thee in some religious house.’ 
 
 310. inland. See ii. 7 - 9 ^‘ , . , 1 
 
 lb courtship, ^ed in the double sense of courtly and graceful manners and 
 
 of paying court or wooing. See Love’s Labour's Lost, v. 2. 363 : 
 
 ‘Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state. 
 
 ,21. lectures. In the first folio ■ Lectors,’ which probably represents the 
 pronunciation of the time. In the same way in Bacon’s Advancement o 
 T pamincr fi 6 o :0 P. 30, ‘ verdure ’ is spelt 4 verdor. 
 
 -26 327 they were all like one another as halfpence are. No halfpence 
 were coined in Elizabeth’s reign till 1582-3. Bacon refers to ‘ the late new 
 halfpence ■ in the Dedication to the first edition of the Essays, which was 
 published in 1597 - They all had the portcullis with a mint mark, and .on 
 the reverse a cross moline with three pellets in each angle, so that, m com¬ 
 parison with the great variety in coins of other denominations then m circu - 
 ation, there was a propriety in saying - as like one another as halfpence are. 
 They were used till 1601. See Folkes, Table of Silver Coins, p. 57 - 
 
 ,L fancy-monger, love-monger, one who deals m love. For - fancy m 
 this sense see hi. 5. 29, and Midsummer Night’s Dream, u. I. 164. 
 
 ‘ In maiden meditation, fancy-free, 
 
 that is, free from the power of love. . . . , - 
 
 ,36. the quotidian of love. A quotidian fever is one in which the fi.s 
 recur at the same hour every day. Mr. Rushton in his Shakespeare s Euphuism, 
 p 90, quotes from Lyly’s Euphues [p. 66, ed. Arber] : ‘Doubt esse if euer 
 she hir selfe haue been scorched with the flames of desire, she wil be redy to 
 quench the coales with curtesie in an other: if euer she haue bene attached1 o 
 lone she will rescue him that is drenched in desire: .1 euer she haue ben taken 
 
138 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act III. 
 
 with the feuer of fancie, she will help his ague, who by a quotidian lit is 
 conuerted into phrensie.’ 
 
 337. love-shaked. For this form of the participle see Henry V, ii. 1. 124 : 
 ‘ He is so shaked of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most lamentable 
 to behold.’ 
 
 339. There is followed by a plural. See Abbott, § 335. 
 
 343. a blue eye, not blue in the iris, but blue or livid in the eyelids, espe¬ 
 cially beneath the eyes. A mark of sorrow. Compare Lucrece, 1587: 
 
 ‘ And round about her tear-distained eye, 
 
 Blue circles stream’d, like rainbows in the sky.’ 
 
 See note on the ‘ blue-eyed hag ’ in The Tempest, i. 2. 270. 
 
 344. unquestionable, averse to question or conversation. For ‘ question * 
 in th's sense see iii. 4. 31, v. 4. 153, and Lucrece, 122 : 
 
 ‘ For after supper long he questioned 
 With modest Lucrece.’ 
 
 * Questionable,’ in the opposite sense of ‘ inviting question or conversation,’ 
 occurs in Hamlet, i. 4. 43: 
 
 ‘Thou comest in such a questionable shape 
 That I will speak to thee.’ 
 
 346. your having, your possession. Compare Twelfth Night, iii. 4. 379: 
 
 * My having is not much.’ 
 
 347. ungartered. A sign of carelessness and absence of mind. See 
 Hamlet, ii. 1. 80, and Two Gentlemen of Verona, ii. 1. 79 : ‘ O, that you 
 had mine eyes; or your own eyes had the lights they were wont to have 
 when you chid at Sir Proteus for going ungartered.’ 
 
 348. your bonnet unbanded. ‘ Bonnet ’ was used in Shakespeare’s time for 
 a man’s hat. See Merchant of Venice, i. 2. 81 : ‘His bonnet in Germany, 
 and his behaviour everywhere.’ In the Authorised Version of Exodus xxviii. 
 40, See. it is the rendering of a term which denotes the head-dress of the 
 priests. Stubbes in his Anatomie of Abuses (1583), describing the various 
 fashions in hats of his time, says, ‘ An other sort have round crownes, some¬ 
 times with one kinde of bande, sometime with an other ; nowe blacke, now 
 white, now russet, now red, now greene, now yellowe, now this, nowe that, 
 never content with one colour or fashion two dayes to an ende ’ (p. 52, 
 Collier’s reprint). He also mentions with great scorn a fashion which had 
 come in from France of wearing hats without bands. Compare Ben Jonson’s 
 Every Man out of his Humour, iv. 4 : ‘I had on a gold cable hatband, then 
 new come up, which I wore about a murrey French hat I had.’ As an illus¬ 
 tration of the whole passage take the following quotation from Heywood’s 
 Fair Maid of the Exchange (Works, ii. 16, ed. 1874) : 
 
 ‘ No by my troth, if every tale of love, 
 
 Or love it selfe, or foole-bewitching beauty, 
 
 Make me crosse-arme my selfe; study ay-mees; 
 
SC. 2.] 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 I 39 
 
 Defie my hat-band; tread beneath my feet 
 Shoo-strings and garters ; practise in my glasse 
 Distressed lookes, and dry my liver up. 
 
 With sighes enough to win an argosie.’ 
 
 350. point-device, faultless, precise. Compare Love’s Labour s Lost, v. 1. 
 
 21 : * I abhor such fanatical phantasimes, such insociable and point-device 
 companions.’ 
 
 351. accoutrements. The spelling of the folios, as of the early form of 
 the French word, is ‘ accoutrements.’ In King John, i. I. 211, and Taming 
 of the Shrew, iii. 2. 121, it occurs in the modern spelling. 
 
 358. still. See line 48. 
 
 362. that unfortunate he. See line 10. 
 
 366. a dark house and a whip. The more humane treatment of lunatics 
 is a growth of the present century. Confinement in a dark room and violent 
 usage was formerly their fate. Compare Twelfth Night, iii. 4. 148. Come, 
 we’ll have him in a dark room and bound. My niece is already in the belief 
 that he’s mad.’ Again, v. 1. 350 : 
 
 ‘ Why have you suffer’d me to be imprison’d, 
 
 Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, 
 
 And made the most notorious geek and gull 
 That e’er invention play’d on.’ 
 
 And Comedy of Errors, iv. 4. 97 : 
 
 4 Mistress, both man and master is possess d; 
 
 I know it by their pale and deadly looks: 
 
 They must be bound and laid in some dark room.’ 
 
 373. moonish, changeable as the moon. 
 
 380. drave. For this form of the preterite see Exodus xiv. 25 ‘ And 
 
 took off their chariot wheels that they drave them heavily.’ 
 
 380, 381. from his mad humour of love to a living humour of madness. 
 Johnson proposed to balance the sentence by reading * dying for mad, of 
 ‘ loving’ for 4 living.’ But 4 living’ in the sense of real or actual gives a very 
 good meaning, and its resemblance in sound is sufficiently near to keep up 
 the jingle. Compare Othello, iii. 3. 409 : ‘ Give me a living reason she s 
 disloyal.’ 
 
 384. ivash your liver as clean as a sound sheep s heart. The liver in 
 ancient physiology was regarded as the seat of the passions. See 1 he Tem¬ 
 pest, iv. 1. 56 : 
 
 4 The Cold white vitgin sriow upon my heart 
 Abates the ardour of my liver.’ 
 
 Compare the ‘jecur ulcerosum’ of Horace, Od. i. 25. 15. The rest of the 
 figure is in keeping with Rosalind’s assumed character as a shepherd, and its 
 propriety must not be too much insisted on. 
 
140 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act III. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 i. Audrey , a corruption of Etheldreda, as ‘tawdry laces’ derive their name 
 irom being sold at the fair of St. Etheldreda, abbess of Ely, which was held 
 on Oct. 17. 
 
 3. doth my simple feature content you ? There is possibly some joke in¬ 
 tended here, the key to which is lost. Malone quotes, but does not suggest 
 that there is any reference to, Daniel’s Cleopatra (1594) : 
 
 ‘ I see then artless feature can content, 
 
 And that true beauty needs no ornament.’ 
 f eature in Shakespeare’s time signified shape and form generally, and was 
 not confined to the face only. See The Tempest, iii. 1. 52, and Richard III, 
 i. I. 19 : 
 
 ‘ Cheated of feature by ^dissembling nature.’ 
 
 5, 6. It is necessary to observe, as it might not otherwise be obvious, 
 that there is a pun intended on ‘goats’ and ‘ Goths,’ and that this is further 
 sustained by the word ‘ capricious,’ which is from the Italian capriccioso, 
 humorous or fantastical, and this from capra, a goat. It is no worse than 
 the line in Much Ado about Nothing, ii. 3. 60 : 
 
 * Note, notes, forsooth, and nothing.' 
 
 As a slight justification it must be mentioned, throwing light also upon the 
 pronunciation of the time, that in Love’s Labour’s Lost, iv. 3. 161, 
 
 ‘ Y° u found his mote ; the king your mote did see,’ 
 
 ‘mote is printed ‘moth’ in the old editions. The Goths were the Getae, 
 Ovid having been banished to Tomi on the Euxine. 
 
 7, 8. Compare Much Ado about Nothing, ii. 1. 99, 100 : 
 
 ‘ D. Pedro. My visor is Philemon’s roof; within the house is Jove. 
 
 Hero. Why, then, your visor should be thatch’d.’ 
 
 The reference is to the story of Baucis and Philemon as told by Ovid, 
 Metam. viii. 
 
 7. ill-inhabited, ill-lodged. This must be the meaning, although it is not 
 easy to say why. Steevens gives an example from the Golden Legende 
 (ed. Wynkyn de Worde, 1527), fol. 196 a, in which ‘am enhabited’ = dwell : 
 ‘ I am ryghtwysnes that am enhabyted here.’ But there is no evidence that in 
 Shakespeare s time ‘ inhabit’ was equivalent to ‘ lodge’ in the active sense. 
 
 II. a great reckoning in a little room , a large bill for a small company. 
 Warburton read ‘reeking.’ 
 
 16. Compare Twelfth Night, i. 5. 206-8 : 
 
 ‘ Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and ’tis poetical. 
 
 Oli. It is the more like to be feigned.’ 
 
 17* maybe said. Collier, following Mason’s conjecture, reads ‘it may 
 be said.’ The construction is confused. Shakespeare may have intended to 
 continue the sentence * may be said to be feigned.’ 
 
sc. 3.] 
 
 /IS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 14I 
 
 21. honest. See i. 2. 35. 
 
 26. material, full of matter. See ii. I. 68. ^ 
 
 3I . foul, ugly ; of the complexion, as opposed to ‘ fair.’ See Venus and 
 
 Adonis, 133: , 
 
 ‘Were I hard-favour’d, foul, or wrinkled-old. 
 
 And Sonnet cxxvii. 6 : 
 
 ‘ For since each hand hath put on nature s power, 
 
 Fairing the foul with art s false borrow d face, 
 
 Sweet beauty hath no name.’ 
 
 34. Sir Oliver Martext. The title ‘Sir’ was given to those who had 
 taken the bachelor’s degree at a university, and corresponded to the Latin 
 * Dominus ’ which still exists in the Cambridge Tripos lists in its abbreviated 
 form D s . So in the Merry Wives of Windsor we have Sir Hugh Evans, and 
 
 in Love’s Labour’s Lost Sir Nathaniel. 
 
 40. stagger, hesitate. Compare Merry Wives of Windsor, iii. 3. 12: 
 
 ‘ Without any pause or staggering take this basket.’ Baret, in his Alvearie, 
 s. v. Stut, gives, ‘ to Stut: to stagger in speaking, or going: to stumble. 
 Titubo.’ Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) has ‘ Hesiter. To doubt, feare, sticke, 
 stammer, stagger (in opinion).’ So in Romans iv. 20, Abraham ‘ staggered 
 
 not at the promise of God through unbelief. 
 
 41. what though? what then? what matters it? Compare Merry Wives 
 of Windsor, i. 1. 286: ‘ I keep but three men and a boy yet, till my mother 
 be dead ; but what though ? Yet I live like a poor gentleman born.’ And, 
 King John, i. 1. 169: 
 
 « Madam, by chance but not by truth ; what though i 
 
 42. necessary, unavoidable. So in Sonnet cviii. lit 
 
 ‘Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place. 
 
 47. the rascal. The technical term for a deer lean and out of condition. 
 
 Compare Drayton, Polyolbion, Song 13, 1 . 91 : ( 
 
 ‘The Bucks and lusty Stags amongst the Rascalls strew’d, 
 
 As sometime gallant spirits amongst the multitude.’ 
 
 Caldecott quotes from Puttenham’s Arte of English Poesie (p. 191, ed 
 Arber) an instance of Catachresis, or the Figure of Abuse: ‘ As one should 
 in reproch say to a poore man, thou raskall knaue, where raskall is pro¬ 
 perly the hunters terme giuen to young deere, leane and out of season, and 
 not to people.’ The derivation is uncertain ; perhaps from the old French 
 word rasque, scurf, so that ‘rascal’ is equivalent to scurvy, scabby, mangy, 
 and other reproachful terms which have a similar origin. Somner ( ic- 
 tionarium Sax. Lat. Anglicum) gives, ‘ Rascal. Fera strigosa. A lean or 
 
 worthlesse Dear.’ 
 
 48. more worthier. See iii. 2. 55. 
 
 32. than to want, that is, than the wanting or being without one. 
 
 61. God ’ild you, God yield you, God reward you. The folios have 
 
NOTES. 
 
 142 
 
 [act III. 
 
 * goddild’ or ‘ godild.’ See v. 4. 52, Hamlet, iv. 5. 41, and Macbeth, i. 6.13. 
 In Antony and Cleopatra, iv. 2. 33, the full form occurs, 
 
 ‘And the gods yield you for ’tl’ 
 
 62. a toy, a trifling matter. 
 
 63. be covered, put on your hat. Touchstone assumes a patronising air 
 towards Jaques. Compare v. I. 17. 
 
 64. motley. See ii. 7. 13. 
 
 65. his boiu, his yoke. Knight gives a representation of an ox yoke used 
 in Suffolk, which is shaped like a bow. 
 
 66. her bells. So Lucrece, 511: 
 
 ‘ With trembling fear, as fowl hear falcon’s bells.’ 
 
 The falcon is properly the female bird, the male being called tercel. See 
 Troilus and Cressida, iii. 2. 55. Shakespeare once makes ‘falcon’ mascu¬ 
 line in Lucrece, 507, but the gender of the pronoun in that passage may be 
 explained by the fact that it refers to Tarquin, who is compared to a falcon. 
 
 74 - but I were better, that it were not better for me. See notes on Hamlet, 
 ii. 2. 508, and The Tempest, i. 2. 367 (Clarendon Press editions). 
 
 81. O sweet Oliver. A fragment of an old ballad referred to by Ben 
 Jonson. See Underwoods, lxii. 70 : 
 
 ‘ All the mad Rolands and sweet Olivers.' 
 
 Steevens says, ‘In the books of the Stationers’ Company, Aug. 6, 1584, 
 was entered, by Richard Jones, the ballad of 
 “ O swete Olyuer 
 Leaue me not behind the.’ 
 
 Again [Aug. 20], 
 
 “ The answeare of O sweete Olyuer.” 
 
 Again, in 1586 [Aug. 1], 
 
 “ O sweete Olyver altered to ye scriptures.” ’ 
 
 83. behind thee. Farmer proposed to read ‘ behi ’ thee,’ and to make the 
 rhyme complete ‘ wi’ thee’ in 1 . S7. Johnson would alter ‘wind’ to ‘wend,’ 
 and would read ‘ with thee to day.’ But ‘ wend’ and ‘ wind’ are akin in 
 meaning as in origin, the notion of turning being radical in both. Steevens 
 quotes from Csesar and Pompey, 1607 : 
 
 ‘Winde we then, Antony, with this royal queen.’ 
 
 Compare the Scotch ‘ win away’ = get away. 
 
 89. flout, mock, scoff. See i. 2. 42, and compare Coriolanus, ii. 3. 168: 
 
 ‘Sec. Cit. Amen, sir: to my poor unworthy notice, 
 
 He mock’d us when he begg’d our voices. 
 
 Third Cit. 
 
 He flouted us downright.’ 
 
 Certainly 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 J 43 
 
 sc. 4.] 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 -7 Something browner than Judas's. Judas in the old tapestries is said 
 to have been represented with a red beard. Compare Marston’s Insatiate 
 Countesse, act ii. (Works, ed. Halliwell, iii. 132) : ‘I ever thought by his 
 red beard hee would prove a Judas ; here am I bought and sold. 
 
 IC. your. See v. 4. 58. . 
 
 13. holy bread, the sacramental bread. Tyndale in his Obedience of a 
 
 Christian Man (Doctrinal Treatises, p. 284, Parker Society ed.), says, ‘ For 
 no man by sprinkling himself with holy water, and with eating holy bread, 
 is more merciful than before, or forgiveth wrong, or becometh at one with 
 his enemy, or is more patient and less covetous, and so forth.’ Theobald, 
 
 strangely misled by Warburton, reads * beard.’ 
 
 14. cast, cast off. Compare Jeremiah xxxviii. 11, ‘old cast clouts and 
 
 rotten rags.’ And Gascoigne, The Steele Glas (ed. Arber, p. 80), 
 
 ‘ When hatters vse, to bye none olde caste robes.’ 
 
 The second and later folios read ‘ chast.’ 
 
 Ib. Diana, the goddess of chastity. Compare Much Ado about Nothing. 
 
 iv. 58: _. . , . 
 
 ‘ You seem to me as Dian in her orb, 
 
 As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown. 
 
 And Timon of Athens, iv. 3. 3^7" 
 
 ‘ Thou ever young, fresh, loved, and delicate wooer, 
 
 Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow 
 
 That lies on Dian’s lap!’ 
 
 15. winter's. Theobald’s usual acuteness appears to have deserted him in 
 
 this scene, for he reads ‘ Winifred s. 
 
 Ib. sisterhood, an order of nuns ; as in Romeo and Juliet, v. 3. 157 • 
 
 « Come, I’ll dispose of thee 
 Among a sisterhood of holy nuns.’ 
 
 23. a covered goblet, which having a convex top is more hollow than a 
 goblet without a cover. 
 
 28. the word of a tapster. See Timon of Athens, iv. 3. 215 . 
 
 ‘ Like tapsters that bid welcome 
 
 To knaves and all approaches.’ 
 
 31. question, conversation. See iii. 2. 344* 
 
 33. what, why. Compare Coriolanus, iii. 3- §3: ‘What do you prate of 
 service ? 9 
 
 37. quite traverse, like an unskilful tilter, who breaks his staff across 
 instead of striking it full against hrs adversary’s shield and so splitting it 
 lengthwise This is again alluded to in Much Ado about Nothing, v. 1. 139 : 
 ‘Nay, then, give him another staff: this last was broke cross.’ See also 
 
 All’s Well that Ends Well, ii, 1, 70. 
 
NOTES . 
 
 [act m. 
 
 144 
 
 lb. his lover , his mistress. Compare Cymbeline, v. 5. 172 : 
 
 * This Posthumus, 
 
 Most like a noble lord in love, and one 
 That had a royal lover, took his hint.’ 
 lb. puisny, inferior, unskilful; as a novice. Capell prints the word in 
 accordance with modern spelling ‘ puny,’ but ‘puisny’ is the spelling of the 
 folios, and the term ‘ puisne judges’ is sufficiently familiar. Cotgrave (Fr. 
 Diet.) has ‘ Puisne. Punie, younger, borne after.’ 
 
 39. a noble goose. Hanmer reads ‘ a nose-quill’d goose,’ a phrase bor¬ 
 rowed from falconry, which Steevens illustrates by a passage in Beaumont and 
 
 Fletcher, Philaster [v. 4] : 
 
 ‘ He shall for this time only be seel’d up, 
 
 With a feather through his nose, that he may only 
 See heaven.’ 
 
 No change is necessary, and this is only given as one of the curiosities of 
 conjectural emendation. 
 
 42. that complain d of love. For the construction see iii. 2. 28. 
 
 43. Who. So the first folio. The others read ‘ whom.’ 
 
 47. the pale complexion of true love. Sighing, a common malady of 
 lovers, was supposed to take the blood from the heart. Compare Mid¬ 
 summer Night’s Dream, iii. 2. 96, 97 - 
 
 ‘ All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, 
 
 With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear.’ 
 
 52. Bring 11s, See. The metre has been variously mended. Pope reads 
 « Bring us but, &c.’; Capell, ‘ Come, bring us, &c.’; Malone, ‘ Bring us 
 unto, &c.’; and Jewis proposed ‘ Bring us to see, &c.’ 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 5. Falls not, lets not fall. For the transitive sense of ‘fall’ see The 
 Tempest, v. 1. 64 : 
 
 4 Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine, 
 
 Fall fellowly drops.’ 
 
 And Lucrece, 1551 : 
 
 ‘For every tear he falls a Trojan bleeds, 
 
 6 . But first begs pardon, without first begging pardon. See Edwards, 
 Life of Ralegh, i. 704: ‘ The executioner then kneeled to him for the for¬ 
 giveness of his office. Ralegh placed both his hands on the man’s shoulders, 
 and assured him that he forgave him with all his heart.’ 
 
 7. dies and lives. Mr. Arrowsmith has shewn (Notes and Queries, 1st 
 Series, vii. 542) that ‘ this hysteron proteron is by no means uncommon : its 
 
 . meaning is, of course, the same as live and die, i. e. subsist from the cradle 
 to the grave.’ He quotes from the Romaunt of the Rose, 5790 : 
 
sc. 5.] 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 14 5 
 
 * With sorrow they both die and live 
 That unto richesse her hertes yeve.’ 
 
 And from Barclay’s Ship of Fooles (1570), fol. 6 b : 
 
 * He is a foole, and so shall he dye and Hue, 
 
 That thinketh him wise, and yet can he nothing.’ 
 
 ‘ He that dies and lives by bloody drops ’ is he whose whole livelihood 
 depends upon his exercising the office of executioner. 
 
 13. atomies. See iii. 2. 215. 
 
 17. swoon. The spelling of the folios is ‘ swound,’ but in iv. 3. 1 5 7 we 
 find the modern form. Other varieties are ‘ sound,’ 4 swoond,’ 4 swoun,’ and 
 ‘ swown.’ See v. 2. 25. 
 
 22. but. Added in the second folio, perhaps unnecessarily, as broken 
 lines are frequently defective in metre. 
 
 23. cicatrice, properly, the scar of a wound : here, a mark, or indentation. 
 The word is accentuated as in Hamlet, iv. 3. 62 : 
 
 4 Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red.’ 
 lb. capable impressure, sensible impression. Shakespeare uses 4 capable ’ 
 elsewhere, as he does 4 sensible,’ in the active sense of 4 sensitive ’; as for ex¬ 
 ample in Hamlet, iii. 4. 127 : 
 
 4 His form and cause conjoin’d, preaching to stones, 
 
 Would make them capable.’ 
 
 For 4 impressure’ in the sense of impression, see Twelfth Night, ii. 5. 103 : 
 
 ‘ Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal.’ 
 
 25. some moment. ‘Some’ was formerly used with singular nouns. 
 Compare Ecclesiasticus vi. 8 : 4 For some man is a friend for his own 
 occasion.’ 
 
 26. Nor . . . no. See Abbott, § 408, and compare Measure for Measure, 
 ii. 1. 241 : 4 But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it shall not be 
 allowed in Vienna.’ 
 
 29. fancy. See iii. 2. 334. 
 
 33. mocks , mockeries, taunts, So Much Ado about Nothing, iii. I. 79 : 
 
 4 It were a better death than die with mocks.’ 
 
 35. Rosalind steps forward. 
 
 36. and all at once. Staunton gives illustrations of this phrase from 
 Henry V, i. I. 36 : 
 
 4 Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulness 
 So soon did lose his seat, and all at once, 
 
 As in this king.’ 
 
 Again in Sabie’s Fisherman’s Tale : 
 
 4 She wept, she cride, she sob’d, and all at once.’ 
 
 And Middleton’s Changeling, iv. 3 : 
 
 4 Does love turn fool, run mad, and all at once?’ 
 
 The first of these examples is not to the point, and a reference to the others 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act III. sc. 5. 
 
 would not have been necessary had it not been proposed to substitute for 
 what gives a very plain meaning either ‘ rail at once,’ or ‘ domineer. 
 
 37. have no beauty. Theobald reads 4 have beauty ; Hanmer, have 
 some beauty’; Malone, ‘ have mo beauty’; and Mason conjectured ‘ had 
 more beauty.’ But the negative is certainly required, because Rosalind’s 
 object is to strike a blow at Phebe’s vanity. See below, 11 . 51, 62. 
 
 39. without candle, not being so very brilliant. 
 
 43. of nature s sale-work, of what nature makes for general sale and not 
 according to order or pattern. The modern phrase is ‘ ready-made goods. 
 
 Ib. ’Od’s my little life, a very diminutive oath, which so far approaches to 
 the definition of an interjection as to be ‘ an extra-grammatical utterance. 
 Compare ‘ Od’s my will ’ in iv. 3. 1 7 - ‘ Od’s ’ is of course for ‘ God s. 
 
 47. bugle, black, as beads of black glass which are called bugles. Com¬ 
 pare ‘ bugle bracelet,’ Winter’s Tale, iv. 4. 224. 
 
 4S. entame, subdue, render tame. Todd in his edition of Johnson s 
 Dictionary quotes from Gower, Confessio Amantis, Book I. [vol. i. p. 66, 
 ed. PauliJ : 
 
 ‘ My sone, if thou thy conscience 
 Entamed hast in such a wise.’ 
 
 lb. to your worship, to worship you. 
 
 30. foggy south. The south was the quarter of fog and rain. Compare 
 Cymbeline, ii. 3 - 136 • ‘The south-fog rot him!’ And in the same play, iv. 
 2. 349 : ‘ The spongy south.’ 
 
 51. properer, handsomer. See i. 2. 108, and below, 114. 
 
 53. That makes. The verb is singular because the nominative is the idea 
 contained in what precedes, as if it had been 4 ’tis the fact of there being 
 such fools as you that makes, &c.’ 
 
 66. Rosalind turns first to Phebe and then to Silvius. Hanmer unneces¬ 
 sarily read 4 her foulness.’ 
 
 Ib. foulness. See note on ‘foul,’ iii. 3. 31. 
 
 78. abused, deceived. See The Tempest, v. I. 112: 
 
 4 Whether thou be’st he or no, 
 
 Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me.’ 
 
 80. Dead shepherd. Christopher Marlowe, slain in a brawl by brands 
 Archer, 1 June, 1593, is the shepherd, and the verse is irom his Hero and 
 Leander, first published in 1598 : 
 
 4 Where both deliberate, the love is slight: 
 
 Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight.’ 
 
 lb. saw. See ii. 7. 156. 
 
 88. extermined, exterminated. Fr. exterminer. Compare 4 extirp and 
 ‘ extirpate.’ 
 
 102. loose, let loose, let drop, like a stray ear of corn. 
 
 104. erewhile. See ii. 4. 83. The spelling of the first three folios is 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 147 
 
 ACT IV. SCc T .j 
 
 ‘ yerewhile.' So in the Authorised Version of 1611, 4 ere’ is spelt 4 ycr ’ in 
 Numbers xi. 33, xiv. II. 
 
 106. the boimds. See ii. 4. 77. 
 
 107. carlot, clown, rustic ; a diminutive of * carle’ or ‘ churl.’ See ii. 4. 74. 
 109. peevish, petulant. Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) interprets ‘Proterve’ as 
 
 ‘Froward, wayward, peruerse, curst, snappish, peeuish; also proud, saweie, 
 malapert, arrogant, impudent.’ 
 
 112. It is, &c. See i. 1. 128. 
 
 122. constant, uniform. 
 
 lb. mingled damask, or red and white, like the colour of Damask roses. 
 Compare Sonnet exxx. 5: 
 
 4 1 have seen roses damask’d, red and white, 
 
 But no such roses see I in her cheeks.’ 
 
 124. In parcels, piecemeal, in detail. 
 
 124, 125. would have gone near To fall, &c., would have nearly fallen, 
 &c., would have gone a long way towards falling in love. See The Tempest, 
 ii. 2. 78 : ‘ it will go near to remove his fit.’ And Midsummer Night’s 
 Dream, v. 1. 294: 4 This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go 
 near to make a man look sad.’ 
 
 127. I have more cause. 4 I’ was added in the second folio. Staunton 
 proposed to read ‘ Have much more cause, &c.’ 
 
 128. what had he to do to chide, what business had he to chide. 
 So in Merry Wives of Windsor, iii. 3. 164: 4 What have you to do whither 
 they bear it ? ’ 
 
 130. I am remember'd, I remember. See note on ii. 7. 189. 
 
 135. straight, immediately. As in Hamlet, v. I. 4: 4 And therefore make 
 her grave straight.’ 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 I. be, omitted in the first folio. 
 
 6. modern. See ii. 7. 156. 
 
 lb. censure, opinion, criticism. Compare Hamlet, i. 3. 69 : 
 
 ‘Take each man’s censure but reserve thy judgement.’ 
 
 14. nice, foolish, trifling. Compare Romeo and Juliet, v. 2.18 : 
 
 4 The letter was not nice but full of charge 
 Of dear import.’ 
 
 15. simples, the single ingredients of a compound mixture. Generally 
 applied to herbs. See note on Hamlet, iv. 7. 143, and Lucrece, 530: 
 
 4 The poisonous simple sometimes is compacted 
 In a pure compound.’ 
 
 L 2 
 
NOTES. 
 
 [act IV. 
 
 148 
 
 17. my often rumination. The first folio has ‘by.’ tor ‘ oiten as an 
 adjective see I Timothy v. 23, ‘ thine often infirmities. 
 
 18. humorous, fanciful. See i. 2. 249, ii. 3. 8. 
 
 26. Orlando’s entrance is marked in the folios before Rosalind’s last speech. 
 
 28. God be w? you. See iii. 2. 239. 
 
 lb. an, if; printed * and ’ in the folios. In this form it occurs where it is 
 little suspected in the Authorised Version of Genesis xliv. 30: ‘Now there¬ 
 fore when I come to thy servant my father, and the lad be not with us.’ 
 
 29. See Overbury’s Characters (Works, ed. Fairholt, p. 58), where ‘An 
 Affectate Traveller’ is described: ‘He censures all things by countenances, 
 and shrugs, and speakes his own language with shame and lisping.’. Rosa¬ 
 lind’s satire is not yet without point. She punishes Orlando for being late 
 by pretending not to notice him till Jaques is gone. 
 
 30. disable, depreciate, disparage. See V. 4. 7 r > an< ^ The Merchant of 
 
 Venice, ii. 7 * 3 ° : 
 
 ‘ And yet to be afeard of my deserving 
 Were but a weak disabling of myself.' 
 
 33. swam for ‘ swum,’ as ‘ drank ’ is often used for the participle ‘ drunk.’ 
 So ‘spake’ for ‘spoken’ in Henry VIII, ii. 4. 153 * See Abbott, § 344 - 
 In the folios another form of the participle is ‘sworn.’ See The Tempest, 
 ii. 2. 133 ; Two Gentlemen of Verona, i. I. 26. 
 
 Ib. gondola. The folios have ‘ Gundello.’ Johnson explains ‘swam in 
 a gondola’; ‘ That is, been at Venice, the seat at that time of all licentious¬ 
 ness, where the young English gentlemen wasted their fortunes, debased their 
 morals, and sometimes lost their religion.’ 
 
 42. clapped him o’ the shoulder, arrested him, like a serjeant. Compare 
 
 Cymbeline, v. 3. 78 : 
 
 ‘Fight I will no more, 
 
 But yield me to the veriest hind that shall 
 Once touch my shoulder.' 
 
 Rosalind hints that Cupid’s power over Orlando was merely superficial. 
 
 46. lief. See i. I. 132 ; iii. 2. 236. 
 
 49, 50. than you make a woman. Hamtief reads ‘ dan make. 
 
 52. beholding, beholden, indebted. 
 
 54. prevents, anticipates ; the original meaning of the word being ‘ to go 
 before.’ Compare Hamlet, ii. 2. 305 : ‘ So shall my anticipation prevent 
 your discovery.’ 
 
 59. of a better leer, of a better complexion. ‘ Leer ’ is from A. S. hleor 
 (O. Sax. hlior, hlear, Icel. hlyr), the face, cheek. Compare Havelok the 
 
 Dane, 2918 (ed. Skeat): 
 
 ‘ J?e heu is swilk in hire ler 
 So \>z rose in roser ’: 
 
 that is, The hue is such in her face as the rose on the rosebush. The word 
 
 . 
 
SC. 1.3 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 149 
 
 ‘ is,’inserted in the second line by the editor, is unnecessary. See also 
 La3amon’s Brut (ed. Madden), 5076, for a much earlier example: 
 
 ‘ Vrnen ire teares 
 Ouer hires leores ’: 
 
 Her tears ran over her cheeks. In Chaucer’s Tale of Sir Thopas (ed. Tyr- 
 whitt), 1. 13786, the word is used in the sense of skin generally : 
 
 * He didde next his white lere 
 Of cloth of lake fin and clere.’ 
 
 From this it came to be used as in the present passage with the wider 
 meaning of aspect, look, and in modern language has degenerated into a 
 look of a particular kind. 
 
 64. you were better. See iii. 3. 74 * 
 
 65. gravelled, puzzled, at a standstill. Compare Bacon, Advancement of 
 Learning (ed. Wright), i. 7, § 8, p. 57: ‘But when Marcus Philosophus 
 came in, Silenus was gravelled and out of countenance.’ 
 
 66. when they are out, when they are at a loss, having forgotten their 
 part. See iii. 2. 233. 
 
 67. Steevens quotes from Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy [Part 3* 
 Sect. 2, Memb. 4, Sub. I, p. 506, ed. 1651] : ‘And when he hath pumped 
 his wits dry, can say no more, kissing and colling are never out of season.’ 
 
 77 - suit. See ii. 7 * 44 * 
 
 83. there ivas not, there has not been. For a similar instance of the past 
 tense used for the perfect, compare Genesis xliv. 28 : ‘ And I said, surely he 
 is torn in pieces; and I saw him not since; ’ where it would be more in 
 accordance with modern usage to say ‘ I have not seen.’ 
 
 85. Troilus, in the story of his death as told by Dictys Cretensis, Dares 
 Phrygius, Tzetzes and Guido Colonna, was slain by Achilles (‘impar con- 
 gressus Acbilli,’ Virg. Aen. i. 474), either with sword or spear, and the 
 Grecian club is as much an invention of Rosalind’s as Leander’s cramp. 
 
 91. chroniclers. The first folio has ‘ chronoclers.’ Hanmer read ‘coroners,’ 
 justifying his emendation by what follows; for ‘ found is the technical 
 word used with regard to the verdict of a coroner’s jury, which is still called 
 their ‘finding.’ See Hamlet, v. I. 3 : ‘ The crowner hath sat on her, and 
 finds it Christian burial.’ I have left the old reading, for there would be only 
 one coroner, and the ‘ chroniclers ’ might be considered to be the jurymen. 
 
 119. there's a girl goes. Steevens, adopting Farmers conjecture, reads 
 ‘ there a girl goes ’; but the change is unnecessary, for the relative is only 
 omitted. 
 
 131. new-fangled, changeable, fond of novelty and new fashions. The 
 earliest form of the word is ‘ newefangel,’ which occurs in Chaucer s Squire s 
 
 Tale, 10932 (ed. Tyrwhitt) : 
 
 ‘ So newefangel ben they of hir mete. 
 
 And in the Translator’s Preface to the Authorised Version we find the sub- 
 
NOTES. 
 
 [act iv. 
 
 i£P 
 
 stantivc < newfanglenes ’; from which it seems probable that the final 5 d' is 
 due to corruption, as in the case of ‘ vild ’ for ‘ vile,’ which is of common 
 occurrence, and perhaps ‘ azured’ for ‘ azure’ (The Tempest, v. I. 43), and 
 ‘damask’d’ for ‘ damask ’ (Sonnet cxxx. 5). In the same way in Hamlet 
 ‘tickle’was changed to ‘tickled,’ and thus formed a difficulty to com- 
 mentators. See note on Hamlet ii. 2. 217 (Clar. Press ed.). Fr ° m * ® 
 form ‘ new-fangled ’ it is easy to see how the imaginary ‘ fangled which 
 occurs in Cymbeline, v. 4. 134* was coined. Todd in his edition of John¬ 
 son’s Dictionary gives two examples of ‘Fangle’ used as a substantive. 
 The first is from Greene’s Mamilia (1583): ‘There was no feather, no 
 fangle, jem, nor jewel, . . . left behind.’ The other is from Antony a 
 Wood, Athense Oxonienses, ii. col. 456 : ‘A hatred to fangles and the Frenc.i 
 fooleries of his time.’ 
 
 133. like Diana in the fountain . ‘In the year 1596,’ says Stow in his 
 Survey of London, 1603, quoted by Malone, ‘there was set up on the east 
 side of the cross in West Cheap, a curiously wrought tabernacle of grey 
 marble, and in the same an image alabaster of Diana, and water conveyed 
 from the Thames prilling from her naked breast for a time, but now decayed, 
 (p. 100, ed. Thoms.) This passage has been referred to as helping to fix 
 the date of the play, but if Shakespeare had this image of Diana in his mind 
 his recollection of it was not strictly accurate. Besides the figure of Diana 
 in a fountain was not so uncommon that it is necessary to suppose that 
 Shakespeare had any particular example in view. Drayton in the Epistle of 
 Rosamond to Henry II (England’s Heroicall Epistles, 1605), 1 . 140: 
 
 ‘ Heere in the garden wrought by curious hands, 
 
 Naked Diana in the fountain stands.’ 
 
 134. a hyen, or hyaena. In Holland’s Pliny it is commonly spelt ‘ hyaene,’ 
 sometimes ‘ hyaen’; but in the index ‘ hyen. See xxviii. 8 (vol. ii. p. ?H 3 ) • 
 
 ‘ The Hyaens bloud taken inwardly with fried barley meale, doth mitigat 
 the wrings and gripes of the bellie.’ 
 
 140. make the doors, shut the doors. See Comedy of Errors, 111. 1. 93: 
 ‘The doors are made against you.’ To ‘make’ the door is given as a 
 Leicestershire expression in Dr. Evans’s Leicestershire Words. 
 
 141. ’twill out. For instances of adverbs of direction without the verb 
 
 of motion, see i. 2. 197* an d Abbott, § 41. 
 
 145. Wit, whither wilt f An expression of not uncommon occurrence, 
 the origin of which is unknown. It appears to have been used to check any 
 . one who was talking too fast. Steevens gives instances from Decker’s 
 Satiromastix (1602) : ‘ My sweet Wit whither wilt thou, my delicate poetical 
 fury.’ And from Heywood’s Royal King, 1637 [Works, vi. iS, ed. 1874]: 
 
 ‘ Cap. Wit : is the word strange to you, wit ? 
 jBon. Whither wilt thou?’ 
 
 15P. You shall never take her without her answer .' Tyrwhitt very appro- 
 
sc. I.] AS YOU LIKE IT. I$I 
 
 priately quotes from Chaucer (The Merchant’s Tale, 10141-5. ed. Tyrwhitt) 
 the promise of Proserpine to supply May with a ready answer, 
 
 ‘And alle women after for hire sake; 
 
 That though they ben in any gilt ytake. 
 
 With face bold they shul hemselve excuse, 
 
 And bere hem doun that wolden hem accuse, 
 
 For lacke of answere, non of us shul dien.’ 
 
 152. her husband's occasion, an occasion against her husband; an oppor¬ 
 tunity for taking advantage of him. Johnson interprets the clause, ‘ shall 
 represent her fault as occasioned by her husband.’ 
 
 155. lack, do without. 
 
 158. go your ways. See i. 2. 191. 
 
 163. Rosalind swears, as Hotspur would have said, ‘ like a comfit maker s 
 wife. “ Not you, in good sooth,” and “ as true as I live, and as God 
 shall mend me,” and “ as sure as day.” ’ I Henry IV, iii. I. 253-255. 
 
 166. pathetical. CotgTave explains ‘ Pathetique’ as ‘ Patheticall, pas¬ 
 sionate ; persuasiue, affection-moving.’ 
 
 174. let Time try. Steevens compares Troilus and Cressida, iv. 5. 225 : 
 
 ‘And that old common arbitrator, Time, 
 
 Will one day end it.’ 
 
 ! 75—7. Celia’s speech, as Steevens has shown, is taken directly from 
 Lodge’s novel (p. 34): * And I pray you (quoth Aliena) if your robes were 
 off, what mettal are you made of that you are so satyrical against women ? 
 
 is it not a foule bird defiles his own nest ? ’ 
 
 175. misused, abused. See Much Ado about Nothing, ii. 1. 246. O, 
 she misused me past the endurance of a block.’ And Taming of the Shrew, 
 ii. I. 160: 
 
 * With twenty such vile terms, 
 
 As had she studied to misuse me so.’ 
 
 On the other hand, ‘abuse’ in Shakespeare’s time was equivalent to the 
 modern ‘ misuse.’ 
 
 180-1. the bay of Portugal. In a letter to the Lord Treasurer and Lord 
 High Admiral, Ralegh gives an account of the capture of a ship of Bayonne 
 by his man Captain Floyer in ‘the Bay of Portugal’ (Edwards, Life of 
 Ralegh, ii. 56). This is the only instance in which I have met with the 
 phrase, which is not recognised, so far as I am aware, in maps and treatises 
 on geography. It is, however, I am informed, still used by sailors to denote 
 that portion of the sea off the coast of Portugal from Oporto to the head¬ 
 land of Cintra. The water there is excessively deep, and within a distance 
 of forty miles from the shore it attains a depth of upwards of 1400 fathoms, 
 which in Shakespeare’s time would be practically unfathomable. 
 
 185. spleen, a sudden impulse of passion, whether of love or hatred. So 
 
 I Henry IV, v. 2. 19 
 
152 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act IV. 
 
 ‘A hare-brain’d Hotspur, govern’d by a spleen!’ 
 
 And Venus and Adonis, 907 : 
 
 ‘ A thousand spleens bear her a thousand ways.’ 
 
 186. abuses, deceives. See iii. 5. 78* 
 
 188. go find. See i. I. 67. 
 
 lb. a shadow, a shady place. So in Venus and Adonis, 191: 
 
 ‘Ill make a shadow for thee of my hairs.’ 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 11. His leather skin and horns to wear. Steevens quotes from Lodge’s 
 novel [p. 57], ‘What news, forrester ? hast thou wounded some deere, and 
 lost him in the fall ? Care not man for so small a losse; thy fees was but 
 the skinne, the shoulder, and the horns.’ 
 
 12. In the folios this line and the stage direction are printed as one lines 
 ‘ Then sing him home, the rest shall beare this burthen.’ 
 
 Theobald was the first to give ‘ The rest shall bear this burthen ’ as a stage 
 direction. Knight regards the whole as a stage direction, and omits it alto¬ 
 gether, while Collier and Dyce print it in different type. Mr. Grant White 
 does the same, reading ‘ They ’ for ‘ Then.’ Barron Field conjectured, 
 
 ‘Men sing him home, the rest shall bear [This burthen.’ 
 
 And Mr. Halliwell (Phillipps) prints 
 
 ‘ Then sing him home, the rest shall bear—This burthen.’ 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 2. here much Orlando, ironically. 
 
 7. bid. The first folio has ‘ did bid.’ 
 
 17. as rare as phoenix, which, according to Seneca (Epist. 42), was born 
 only once in five hundred years. See The Tempest, iii. 3. 23, and Sir T. 
 Browne’s Vulgar Errors, B. 3, c. 12 : ‘ That there is but one Phoenix in the 
 world, which after many hundred years burneth it self, and from the ashes 
 thereof ariseth up another, is a conceit not new or altogether popular, but of 
 great Antiquity.’ 
 
 Ib. Od's my will. See iii. 5. 43. 
 
 23. turn'd into, brought into. Compare, for this sense of ‘ turn,’ Two 
 Gentlemen of Verona, iv. 4. 67 : 
 
 ‘ A slave, that still an end turns me to shame.’ 
 
 The Tempest, i. 2. 64 : 
 
 ‘ O, my heart bleeds 
 
 To think o’ the teen that I have turn’d you to.’ 
 
 Twelfth Night, ii. 5. 224: ‘ It cannot but turn him into a notable contempt.’ 
 Coriolanus, iii. 1. 284 : 
 
 * The which shall turn you to no further harm.’ 
 
sc. 3.] 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 153 
 
 Hence the conjectural emendations proposed by Capell ‘ turn’d so in the 
 extremity of love,’or ‘turned (that is, head-turned) in, & c.’ are unnecessary. 
 
 25 . freestone-colour d, of the colour of Bath brick, a common article of 
 domestic use, 
 
 37 ' a huswife's hand, such as a housemaid would have. 
 
 34. drop forth. See iii. 2. 219. 
 
 35. Ethiope, black as an Ethiopian. The word is used frequently by 
 Shakespeare, but elsewhere as a substantive. Compare Two Gentlemen of 
 Verona, ii. 6. 26 : 
 
 ‘ And Silvia—witness Heaven, that made her fair!— 
 
 Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope.’ 
 
 37. heard. See note on iv. i. 83. 
 
 48. vengeance , mischief; not revenge. 
 
 49. Meaning me a beast, meaning that I am a beast. 
 
 50. eyne, a poetical form of the plural, generally used for the sake of the 
 rhyme. But this is not the case in Lucrece, 1229 : 
 
 ‘Even so the maid with swelling drops gan wet 
 Her circled eyne.’ 
 
 The old English forms are ei^en, eien, or eyen; A. S. edgan. 
 
 53. aspect, an astrological term used to denote the favourable or unfavour¬ 
 able appearance of the planets. Compare Troilus and Cressida, i. 3. 92 : 
 
 ‘ Whose medicinable eye 
 Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil.’ 
 
 Lucrece, 14: 
 
 ‘Where mortal stars, as bright as heaven’s beauties, 
 
 With pure aspects did him peculiar duties.’ 
 
 Sonnet, xxvi. 10: 
 
 ‘ Till whatsoever star that guides my moving 
 Points on me graciously with fair aspect.’ 
 
 The accent is always on the last syllable. 
 
 59. hind, nature, natural inclination. See Lucrece, 1147: 
 
 ‘ And there we will unfold 
 
 To creatures stem sad tunes, to change their kinds.’ 
 
 67. instrument is here used in two senses: first as a tool and then as a 
 musical instrument. 
 
 69. snahe, a term of contempt. Malone quotes from Sir John Old- 
 castle : ‘ And you, poor snakes, seldom come to a booty.’ Again from Lord 
 Cromwell [iii. 3] : 
 
 ‘ The poorest snake, 
 
 That feeds on lemons, pilchards.’ 
 
 Compare also Beaumont and Fletcher, The Captain, i. 3: 
 
 * But no snakes to poison us 
 
 With poverty.’ 
 
1^4 NOTES. [act iv. 
 
 And The Spanish Curate, iii. I: 
 
 * That makes you fear’d, forces the snakes to kneel to you.’ 
 
 74. fair ones. Shakespeare seems to have forgotten that Celia was appar¬ 
 ently the only woman present. Perhaps we should read * fair one.’ 
 
 75. purlieus , the skirts or borders of a forest; originally part of the forest 
 itself. A technical term. Reed quotes from Manwood’s Treatise on the 
 Forest Laws, c. xx.: ‘Purlieu ... is a certaine territorie of ground adjoyning 
 unto the forest, meared and bounded with immoveable marks, meeres, and 
 boundaries.’ 
 
 77. the neighbour bottom, the neighbouring dell or dale. For ‘neigh¬ 
 bour’ as an adjective see Jeremiah xlix. 18 : ‘ As in the overthrow of Sodom 
 and Gomorrah, and the neighbour cities thereof.’ And for ‘ bottom ’ see 
 Zechariah, i. 8 : ‘I saw by night, and behold a man riding upon a red horse, 
 and he stood among the myrtle-trees that were in the bottom.’ 
 
 85. favour, aspect, look; used generally of the face. It is a common 
 thing in some parts of the country to say that a child ‘ favours ’ his father 
 when he is like him in the face. Compare Macbeth, i. 5. 73 : 
 
 ‘To alter favour ever is to fear.’ 
 
 And Hamlet, v. 1. 214; ‘Let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she 
 must come.’ 
 
 Ib. bestoxvs himself, bears himself, deports himself. See Two Gentlemen 
 of Verona, iii. 1.87: 
 
 ‘How and which way I may bestow myself 
 To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.’ 
 
 86. a ripe sister, a grown-up sister. Lettsom conjectured ‘ right forester’ ; 
 but the meaning must be that Rosalind, though in male attire and acting the 
 part of a brother, was in her behaviour to Celia more like an elder sister. 
 
 92. napkin, handkerchief. See v. 2. 25, and Othello, iii. 3. 290, where 
 Emilia says, ‘ I am glad I have found this napkin.’ Iago afterwards asks 
 Othello, iii. 3. 434 : 
 
 ‘ Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief 
 Spotted with strawberries in your wife’s hand?’ 
 
 96. handkercher. The spelling of the folios, representing the common 
 pronunciation. In Othello the quarto reads ‘ handkercher,’ the folios ‘ hand¬ 
 kerchief.’ 
 
 99. an hour. Orlando had said ‘ two hours,’ and so Hanmer reads. 
 
 100. food. Staunton reads ‘ cud.’ 
 
 Ib. Sweet and bitter fancy. Compare Lodge’s novel, p. 100; ‘ Wherin 
 I have noted the variable disposition of fancy, that lyke the polype in 
 colours, so it changeth into sundry humors, being as it should seeme, a 
 combat mixt with disquiet, and a bitter pleasure wrapt in a sweet preju¬ 
 dice, lyke to the synople tree, whose blossomes delight the smell, and whose 
 fjruit infects the taste.’ 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 155 
 
 ec. 3.J ' 
 
 103. an oak. The reading of Pope. The folios have ‘ an old oake.’ 
 
 113. with udders all drawn dry, and therefore fierce with hunger. Com¬ 
 pare Lear, iii. I. 12: 
 
 * This night wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch,’ 
 though sucked dry by her cubs and therefore hungry. Steevens quotes from 
 Arden of Feversham : 
 
 4 The starven lioness 
 
 When she is dry suckt of her eager young.’ 
 
 116, 117. Douce quotes from Batman vppon Bartholome [xviii. 6 5, fol. 
 370], of lions : 4 Also their mercie is known by many and oft ensamples : for 
 they spare them that lye on the ground. See also the quotation from 
 Lodge in the Preface. 
 
 121. render , report, describe. Compare Cymbeline, iii. 4. 153 * 
 
 4 Report should render him hourly to your ear 
 As truly as he moves.’ 
 
 124. to Orlando, with regard to Orlando. 
 
 130. hurtling, din, tumult, noise of a conflict. An imitative word. Com¬ 
 pare Julius Cassar, ii. 2. 22 '. 4 The noise of battle hurtled in the air. Cotgrave 
 (Fr. Diet.) gives 4 Hurteller. To trample on with the feet.’ 
 
 134. do not shame , am not ashamed. Compare Lucrece, 44 7 • 
 
 4 And for, poor bird, thou sing’st not in the day, 
 
 As shaming any eye should thee behold.’ 
 
 137. f or > as re g ar ^s. 
 
 139. recoupments, narratives.. 
 
 140. As, as for instance. See ii. I. 6. Oliver gives one of the many 
 
 questions asked and answered. 
 
 149. Brief, briefly, in brief. So in Pericles, iii. prol. 39 : 
 
 4 Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre.’ 
 
 Ib. recover'd, restored. Compare The Tempest, ii. 2.97: 4 If all the wine 
 in my bottle will recover him, I will help his ague. 
 
 154. in his blood. The first folio has 4 this. 
 
 158. Cousin Ganymede l Johnson reads 4 Cousin—Ganymed ! and explains, 
 
 4 Celia, in her first fright, forgets Rosalind’s character and disguise, and calls 
 
 out cousin, then recollects herself, and says, Ganymede. 
 
 162. Be of good cheer. Be cheerful, cheer up ! So Antony and Cleopatra, 
 
 v. 2. 21 : , , 
 
 4 Be of good cheer, 
 
 You’re fall’n into a princely hand, fear nothing.’ 
 
 4 Cheer,’ from Fr. chere, was originally the countenance. See Midsummer 
 
 Night’s Dream, iii. 2. 96 : 4 pale of cheer. 
 
 164. I do so. Rosalind takes Oliver’s words in another sense. 
 
 Ib. Ah, sirrah. Pope altered this to 4 Ah, sir,’ probably because ‘sirrah’ 
 is 4 term used in addressing an inferior. But it occurs more than once in 
 
NOTES. 
 
 [act y. 
 
 the same connexion with ‘ ah,’ the speaker apparently half soliloquizing. See 
 Romeo and Juliet, i. 5. 31 : 
 
 ‘Ah, sirrah, this unlook’d-for sport comes well.’ 
 
 And again, line 128: 
 
 ‘ Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late.’ 
 
 In Beaumont and Fletcher are several cases in which it is addressed to women. 
 See Wit at Several Weapons, iii. 1: 
 
 ‘Ah, sirrah mistress, were you caught i’ faith?’ 
 
 Ib. a body would think, a person would think, one would think. This 
 indefinite use of ‘body’ is common enough in Scotch and provincial dialects, 
 and was once more common still. Compare Psalm liii. I (Prayer Book 
 Version) : ‘ The foolish body hath said in his heart.’ So in Measure for 
 Measure, iv. 4. 25 : ‘ an eminent body.’ And Merry Wives of Windsor, i. 
 4. 105 : ‘’Tis a great charge to come under one body’s hand.’ 
 
 168. of earnest. Compare Cymbeline, v. 5. 206 : 
 
 ‘ Nay, some marks 
 Of secret on her person.’ 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 3. See iii. 3. 68-73. 
 
 10. It is meat and drink to me, &c. See Merry Wives of Windsor, i. 1. 
 306 : ‘ That’s meat and drink to me, now.’ 
 
 11, 12. we shall be flouting, we must have our joke. For * shall’ in this 
 sense compare i. I. 1 17. On ‘flouting,’ see iii. 3. 89. 
 
 14. God ye good even, that is, God give you good even. It is still further 
 shortened to ‘ Godgigoden in Romeo and Juliet, i. 2. 58. 
 
 51. bastinado. This is the spelling of the folios, and has been adopted in 
 modern times. But Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) gives, ‘ Bastonnade : f. A bastonadoe; 
 a banging, or beating with a cudgell.’ Florio (Ital. Diet.) has, ‘ Bastonata, 
 a bastonado, or cudgell blow.’ 
 
 52. bandy with thee, contend with thee. ‘ To bandy is to take a side in 
 a party quarrel, and was also a term used in tennis. See Romeo and Juliet, 
 iii. 1.92: 
 
 ‘ The prince expressly hath 
 Forbidden bandying in Verona streets.’ 
 
 And 1 Henry VI, iv. 1. 190: 
 
 ‘This factious bandying of their favourites.’ 
 
 Cotgrave (s.v. Bander) gives the following ‘ * Iouer a bander et a racier contre. 
 To bandy against, at Tennis : and (by metaphor) to pursue with all insolencie, 
 rigour, extremitie. Se bander contre. To bandie, or oppose himselfe against, 
 with his whole power; or to ioyne in league with others against.’ 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT, 
 
 *57 
 
 SC. 2 .J 
 
 lb. policy. The first folio has ‘police.’ 
 
 56. God vest you merry. This salutation at taking leave occurs in the 
 shorter form in Romeo and Juliet, i. 2. 65 : ‘Ye say honestly: rest you 
 merry!’ So ‘ rest you fair, good signior,’ in Merchant of Venice, i. 3* 60. 
 
 57. seeks, perhaps only a misprint of the folios. See note on i. 2. 94. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 3. persever. The common spelling of Shakespeare’s time, the accent 
 being on the second syllable. See King John, ii. 1. 421 : 
 
 ‘ Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings.’ 
 
 The only exception to the uniformity of this spelling given by Dr. Schmidt 
 in his Shakespeare Lexicon is in Lear, iii. 5. 23, where the quartos have 
 * persevere,’ and the folios ‘ persever.’ 
 
 6. the poverty of her. Compare Henry V, ii. 4. 64: 
 
 ‘ The native mightiness and fate of him.’ 
 
 And see Abbott, § 225. 
 
 7. nor her sudden co?isenting. ‘ Her’ was added by Rowe. 
 
 II. estate, settle as an estate. So in The Tempest, iv. I. 85 : 
 
 ‘And some donation freely to estate 
 On the blest lovers.’ 
 
 17. And you , fair sister. Johnson proposed ‘And you, and your fair 
 sister,’ but Oliver enters into Orlando’s humour in regarding the apparent 
 Ganymede as Rosalind. 
 
 25. swoon. The first three folios have ‘sound’; the fourth ‘swound. See 
 
 iii. 5. 17* 
 
 lb. handkercher. See iv. 3. 96. 
 
 27• I know where you are, I know what you mean, what you are hinting 
 at. Compare Lear, iv. 6. 148 [123, Clar. Press ed.] ; ‘ O, ho, are you there 
 with me ?’ 
 
 29. thrasonical, boastful; from Thraso the boaster in the Eunuchus of 
 Terence. It occurs again in Love’s Labour’s Lost, v. I. 14 : ‘ His general 
 behaviour vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical.’ 
 
 Ib. of. Compare Twelfth Night, i. 5 - 10 : ‘I can ^ ee where that 
 saying was born, of “ I fear no colours.” ’ 
 
 Ib. The celebrated despatch of Caesar to the Senate after his defeat of 
 Pharnaces near Zela in Pontus. See Cymbeline, iii. I. 24: 
 
 ‘ A kind of conquest 
 
 Caesar tnade here; but made not here his brag 
 Of “ Came ” and “ saw ” and “ overcame.” ’ 
 
 The first folio has ' overcome.’ 
 
 35. incontinent, immediately. See Othello, iv. 3. 12 : 
 
 ‘He says he will return incontinent.’ 
 
 Ib. wrath, ardour or impetuosity. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 [act V. 
 
 15 s 
 
 36. they will together. See note on i„ 2„ 197. 
 
 Ib. clubs cannot part them. Clubs were the weapons of the London 
 prentices, and the cry of ‘ Clubs! clubs ! 8 as the readers of The Fortunes of 
 Nigel will remember, was the signal for them to join in a street fight, but 
 nominally to separate the combatants. See Romeo and Juliet, i. I. 80 : 
 
 ‘Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!’ 
 
 The stage direction which precedes is * Enter several of both houses, who 
 join the fray; then enter Citizens, with Clubs. 8 Compare also Titus Andro- 
 nicus, ii. I. 37 : 
 
 ‘ Clubs, clubs! these lovers will not keep the peace.' 
 
 Compare also Henry VIII, v. 4. 53: ‘I missed the meteor once, and hit 
 that woman; who cried out “ Clubs ! ” when I might see from far come forty 
 truncheoners draw to her succour.’ 
 
 37. bid, invite; A.S. biddan. See below, line 64. In the other sense of 
 ‘offer’ or ‘order 8 it is from A.S. beodan. 
 
 38. nuptial, wedding. The plural form, which is now the prevailing one, 
 is only used twice by Shakespeare, in Pericles, v. 3. 80, and Othello, ii. 2. 8. 
 In the latter passage the folios have the singular, while the quartos read 
 ‘nuptialls.’ See The Tempest, v. 1. 308. 
 
 48. of good conceit , of good intelligence or mental capacity. Compare 
 
 Lucrece, 701 : * 
 
 ‘ O, deeper sin than bottomless conceit 
 Can comprehend in still imagination! 8 
 Shakespeare never uses the word in its modern sense. See Merchant of 
 Venice, i. I. 92. 
 
 49. insomuch, inasmuch as. 
 
 52. to grace me, to get me credit. See i. 1. 134. 
 
 54. three year. The fourth folio had already ‘ three years, 8 or the change 
 would have been made by Pope on the ground that the singular was vulgar. 
 See note on iii. 2. 295. 
 
 Ib. conversed, been conversant, associated. 
 
 55. damnable, worthy of condemnation. Compare Measure for Measure, 
 
 iv. 3 - 73 : 
 
 * A creature unprepared, unmeet for death; 
 
 And to transport him in the mind he is 
 Were damnable. 8 
 
 56. gesture, carriage, bearing. 
 
 Ib. cries it out. For this indefinite use of ‘ it’ compare i. 3. 119. 
 
 63. which I tender dearly. By 5 Elizabeth, ch. 16, ‘An Act agaynst 
 Conjuracons, Inchantmentes, and Witchecraftes,’ it was enacted that all per¬ 
 sons using witchcraft etc. whereby death ensued should be put to death 
 without benefit of clergy. If the object of the witchcraft were to cause 
 bodily harm the punishment was for the first offence one year’s imprisonment 
 
SC. 2.] 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 *59 
 
 and pillory; and for the second, death. To use witchcraft for the purpose 
 of discovering treasure or to provoke unlawful love was an offence punish¬ 
 able upon the first conviction with a year’s imprisonment and pillory, and 
 upon the second with imprisonment for life and forfeiture of goods. This 
 Act was repealed by another, I James I, c. 12, which was even more severe. 
 By this any one invoking or consulting with evil spirits and practising witch¬ 
 craft was to be put to death; and for attempting by means of conjurations 
 to discover hidden treasure or to procure unlawful love the punishment was 
 one year’s imprisonment and pillory for the first offence, and for the second, 
 death. 
 
 87, 89. observance, respect. In one or other of these passages ‘ obser¬ 
 vance’ occurs in place of another word. Most of those who have made 
 conjectures have rightly regarded the second occurrence of the word as an 
 error, for on the first occasion it is appropriately associated with* adoration’ 
 and ‘ duty.’ To ‘ observe ’ any one, in the language of Shakespeare’s time, 
 was to treat him with consideration and respect. Thus in Mark vi. 20 it is 
 said of John the Baptist that ‘ Herod feared John, knowing that he was a 
 just man and an holy, and observed him,’ where Tyndale has ‘ gave him 
 reverence.’ Compare Timon of Athens, iv. 3. 212 : 
 
 ‘ Hinge thy knee, 
 
 And let his very breath, whom thou’lt observe, 
 
 Blow off thy cap.’ 
 
 In line 87 Dyce reads ‘ obedience.’ In line S9 the following have been 
 proposed, ‘ obeisance,’ ‘ obedience',’ ‘perseverance,’ ‘ endurance,’ ‘ deservance,’ 
 and ‘ devotion.’ Of these ‘ perseverance ’ and ‘ endurance ’ are better than 
 the rest, but not entirely satisfactory. 
 
 94. to love you. We should now say ‘ for loving you.’ Compare 
 Taming of the Shrew, iii. 2. 27: ‘I cannot blame thee now to weep.’ 
 See Abbott, § 356. 
 
 97. Why do you speak too. Rowe altered this to ‘Who do you speak 
 to ’; but the change is not absolutely necessary, for Orlando’s reply fits the 
 question well enough. 
 
 100, 101. like the howling of Irish wolves, dismal and monotonous. 
 Malone has pointed out that this is adapted from Lodge’s novel (p. no); 
 ‘ I tell thee, Montanus, in courting Phoebe, thou barkest with the wolves of 
 Syria against the moone.’ In Ireland wolves existed as late as the beginning 
 of the last century. Spenser, in his View of the Present State of Ireland 
 (Globe ed.), p. 634, mentions some of the Irish superstitions connected with 
 the wolf: ‘ Also the Scythians sayd, that they were once every yeare turned 
 into wolves, and soe is it written of the Irish: though Mr. Camden in a 
 better sence doth suppose it was a disease, called Lycanthropia, soe named of 
 the wolfe. And yet some of the Irish doe use to make the wolfe theyr 
 gossip.’ 
 
16o 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act V. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 4. dishonest, unvirtuous or immodest. See i. 2. 35, iii. 3. 21. In ‘the 
 character of the persons’ prefixed to Ben Jonson’s Every Man out of his 
 Humour, Fallace, the citizen’s wife, is described: ‘She dotes as perfectly 
 upon the courtier, as her husband does upon her, and only wants the face 
 to be dishonest.’ 
 
 lb. to be a woman of the world, that is, to be married. Compare what 
 Beatrice says in Much Ado about Nothing, ii. I. 331, * Thus goes every one 
 to the world but I, and I am sunburnt: I may sit in a corner and cry heigh- 
 ho for a husband ! ’ Again, All’s Well that End’s Well, i. 3. 20 : ‘ If I may 
 have your ladyship’s goodwill to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will 
 do as we may.’ 
 
 10. Shall we clap into't roundly, shall we set about it directly ? Compare 
 Measure for Measure, iv. 3. 43 : ‘ Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into 
 your prayers; for, look you, the warrant’s come.’ And Much Ado about 
 Nothing, iii. 4. 44: ‘Clap’s into “Light o’ Love,” that goes without a 
 burden.’ For ‘roundly’ in the sense of directly, without hesitation, see 
 Troilus and Cressida, iii. 2. 161: 
 
 ‘ Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than love; 
 
 And fell so roundly to a large confession, 
 
 To angle for your thoughts.’ 
 
 11, 12. the only prologues to a bad voice. Another instance of the trans¬ 
 position of ‘ only.’ Compare i. 2. 174, and Much Ado about Nothing, iv. I. 
 323 : ‘ Men are only turned into tongue.’ Again, Sidney’s Arcadia, lib. 2, 
 p. 110 (ed. 159S) : ‘ Gynecia, who with the onely bruze of the fall, had her 
 shoulder put of ioynct.’ 
 
 15-32. The arrangement of verses in the song is that which is found in 
 a MS. in the Advocates’ Library, Edinburgh, reprinted by Mr. Chappell in 
 his Popular Music of the Olden Time, p. 204. In the folios the last stanza 
 is printed as the second. 
 
 16. With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino. In the preface to his 
 Ghostly Psalms, Coverdale (Remains, p. 537, Parker Soc.) refers to these 
 meaningless burdens of songs : ‘ And if women, sitting at their rocks, ot 
 spinning at the wheels, had none other songs to pass their time withal, than 
 such as Moses’ sister, Glehana’s [Elkanah’s] Wife, Debora, and Mary the 
 mother of Christ, have sung before them, they should be better occupied 
 than with hey nony hony, hey troly loly, and such like phantasies.’ 
 
 18. the only pretty ring time. So the Edinburgh MS. The folios have 
 ‘ rank ’ for ‘ ring.’ 
 
 33, 34. no great matter in the ditty, no great sense or meaning in the 
 Words of the song. For ‘ matter ’ see ii. I. 68. Bacon, Essay xxxvii. p. 156 
 (ed. Wright), says of ‘ acting in song ’ that we should have ‘ the ditty high and 
 tragicall.’ 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 161 
 
 sc. 4.] 
 
 34. untuneable. Theobald, forgetting that Touchstone is the speaker, 
 changed this to ‘ untimeable.’ The page misunderstands him in order to 
 give him an opening for another joke. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 4. - 4 s those that fear they hope, and know they fear, who are so diffident 
 that they even hope fearfully, and are only certain that they fear. Various 
 conjectures without sufficient reason have been made for the emendation 
 of the text. 
 
 5. whiles, while. See ii. 7. 128. 
 
 76 . compact, with the accent on the last syllable, as in Hamlet, i. 1. 86 
 and elsewhere in Shakespeare except 1 Henry VI, v. 4. 163. See the note 
 on the passage in Hamlet (Clar. Press ed.). 
 
 25. To make these doubts all even. Steevens quotes from Measure for 
 Measure, iii. I. 41 : 
 
 ‘ Yet death we fear, 
 
 That makes these odds all even.’ 
 
 25. lively, lifelike. So in Timon of Athens, i. 1. 38, ‘Livelier than life.’ 
 
 76 . touches, traits. See iii. 2. 141. 
 
 76 . favour. See iv. 3. 85. As Orlando does not recognise Rosalind in 
 her disguise it is not surprising that her father fails to do so. But his curi¬ 
 osity is excited, and the enquiries which must certainly have followed upon 
 Orlando s speech are checked by the entry of Touchstone and Audrey. 
 
 35. another flood toward, that is, at hand or coming on. Compare Lear, 
 ii. 1. 11 : ‘Have you heard of no likely wars toward, ’twixt the Dukes of 
 Cornwall and Albany ? So ‘ towards ’ is used in the same sense in Romeo 
 and Juliet, i. 5. 124 : ‘ We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.’ 
 
 3 ^’ 3 7 ‘ Warburton thought the reading ‘ very strange beasts ’ wrong, and 
 that his proposed change to ‘ unclean beasts ’ made it highly humorous. No 
 one but Hanmer seems to have been of the same opinion. 
 
 39. Good my lord. See i. 2. 1. 
 
 39, 40. the motley-minded gentleman. See ii. 7. 12 &c. 
 
 42. let him put me to my purgation, let him give me an opportunity of 
 proving the truth of what I have said. See i. 3. 50. The phrase is used in 
 a double sense in Hamlet, iii. 2. 318. 
 
 34. a measure, a stately dance, suited to the court. Compare Much Ado 
 about Nothing, ii. 1. 80: ‘ The wedding mannerly modest, as a measure, full 
 of state and ancientry.’ Autolycus in the Winter’s Tale (iv. 4. 757), who 
 has some points of resemblance to Touchstone, says to the Shepherd, ‘ Hath 
 not my gait in it the measure of the court!’ See also in Venus and Adonis, 
 1148, Venus prophesies of love, 
 
 ‘ It shall be sparing and too full of riot, 
 
 Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures.’ 
 
 M 
 

 I6s 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act V. 
 
 45. like, been likely. Compare Much Ado about Nothing, v. 1. 115: 
 
 < We had like to have had our two noses snapped off with two old men 
 
 without teeth.’ , . 
 
 47. taen up, made up. Compare Twelfth Night, iii. 4. 320 : ‘I have his 
 
 horse to take up the quarrel.’ And Othello, i. 3. 173 : 
 
 4 Good Brabantio, 
 
 Take up this mangled matter at the best.’ 
 
 52. God 'ildyou. See iii. 3. 61. 
 
 Ib. I desire you of the like. Compare Midsummer Night’s Dream, m. 1. 
 185 : ‘I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb. 
 
 53. copulatives, who desire to be joined in marriage. For the force of the 
 termination ‘-ive’ in Shakespeare see note on iii. 2. 10. 
 
 54. blood, passion. See Hamlet, iii. 2. 74 : 
 
 «And blest are those 
 
 Whose blood and judgement are so well commingled. 
 
 That they are not a pipe for fortune’s finger 
 To sound what stop she please.’ 
 
 55. ill-favoured, ill-looking, ugly. See i. 2. 36. 
 
 57. honesty. See i. 2. 35, iii. 3. 25. 
 
 58. as your pearl in your foul oyster. For this colloquial use of the pro¬ 
 noun compare iii. 4. 10, and Antony and Cleopatra, ii. 7 ' 2 9 » 3 ° • Your 
 serpent of Egypt is bred now of your mud by the operation of your sun : so 
 
 is your crocodile.’ 
 
 59. swift, quick-witted. See iii. 2. 257, and compare Much Ado about 
 Nothing, iii. 1. S9 : 
 
 ‘ Having so swift and excellent a wit.’ 
 
 Ib. sententious, full of pithy sayings. So in Love’s Labour s Lost, v. I. 3 : 
 ‘Your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious.’ 
 
 60. the fool’s bolt, which, according to the proverb, is soon shot. See 
 
 Henry V, iii. 7 - I 3 2 - , r ^ , 
 
 60, 61. such dulcet diseases. Those who wish to make sense of Touch¬ 
 stone’s nonsense would read ‘ discourses,’ or ‘phrases,’ or ‘ discords,’ instead 
 of ‘ diseases.’ But the clown only shares the fate of those, even in modern 
 times, who use fine phrases without understanding them, and ‘ for a tricksy 
 word defy the matter.’ 
 
 64. seven times removed, reckoning backwards from the lie direct. 
 
 65. more seeming, more seemly, more becomingly. 
 
 Ib. dislike, express dislike of. Warburton quotes from Beaumont and 
 
 Fletcher, The Queen of Corinth, iv. I : 
 
 ‘ Has he familiarly 
 
 Disliked your yellow starch, or said your doublet 
 Was not exactly frenchified ? or that, that report 
 In fair terms was untrue? or drawn your sword, 
 
 Cried ’twas ill-mounted? has he given the lie 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 sc. 4.] 
 
 In circle, or oblique, or semi-circle, 
 
 Or direct parallel ? you must challenge him.’ 
 
 70. quip, a smart jest. Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) explains ‘ Sobriquet 5 as ‘ A 
 surname; also, a nickname, or byword; and, a quip or cut giuen, a mocke 
 or flowt bestowed, a ieast broken on a man.’ Milton has preserved the word 
 in L’Allegro, 27 : 
 
 ‘ Quips and cranks and wanton wiles.’ 
 
 Baret (Alvearie, ed. 1580) gives : ‘ merrie Quipps, or tauntes wittily spoken. 
 Dicteria.’ Another form of the word is ‘ quib,’ which is found in Coles’ 
 Dictionary, and in Webster’s one volume edition is given on the authority of 
 Tennyson in a quotation from The Death of the Old Year, 1 . 29. I have 
 however been unable to find it in any English edition. 
 
 71. disabled, disparaged. See iv. 1. 30. 
 
 74. lied. Capell’s reading. The folios have ‘ lie.’ 
 
 Ib. countercheck, a rebuff, check. The figure is from the game of chess; 
 as in King John, ii. 1. 224: 
 
 ‘ Who painfully with much expedient march 
 Have brought a countercheck before your gates.’ 
 
 83. we quarrel in print , by the book. The particular book which Shake¬ 
 speare seems to have had in view was a treatise by Vincentio Saviolo printed 
 in 1595, to which Warburton was the first to direct attention. The full 
 title is ‘Vincentio Saviolo his Practise. In two Bookes. The first intreat¬ 
 ing of the vse of the Rapier and Dagger. The second, of Honor and 
 honorable Quarrels.’ In the second book is contained, ‘ A Discourse most 
 necessarie for all Gentlemen that haue in regarde their honors touching the 
 giuing and receiuing qf the Lie, wherevpon the Duello & the Combats in 
 diuers sortes doth insue, & many other inconueniencies, for lack only of 
 the true knowledge of honor, and the contrarie: & the right vnderstanding 
 of wordes, which heere is plainly set downe, beginning thus.’ The subject 
 is treated under the following heads : ‘ Of the manner and diuersitie of Lies.’ 
 * Of Lies certaine.’ ‘ Of conditionall Lyes.’ ‘ Of the Lye in generall.’ ‘ Of 
 the Lye in particular.’ ‘ Of foolish Lyes.’ The chapter ‘ Of conditionall 
 Lyes,’ which appears to correspond to Touchstone’s Lie circumstantial, begins 
 thus: * Conditionall lyes be such as are giuen conditionally: as if a man 
 should saie or write these woordes. If thou hast saide that I haue offered my 
 Lord abuse, thou lyest: or if thou saiest so heerafter, thou shalt lye. And 
 as often as thou hast or shalt so say, so oft do I and will I say that thou 
 doest lye. Of these kinde of lyes giuen in this manner, often arise much 
 contention in words, and diuers intricate worthy battailes, multiplying 
 wordes vpon wordes whereof no sure conclusion can arise.’ The author 
 warns his readers ‘ by all meanes possible to shunne all conditionall lyes, 
 neuer geuing anie other but certayne Lyes : the which in like manner they 
 ought to haue great regarde, that they giue them not, vnlesse they be by 
 some sure means infallibly assured, that they giue them rightly, to the ende 
 
 M 2 
 
NOTES. 
 
 [act V. 
 
 164 
 
 that the parties vnto whome they be giuen, may be forced without further 
 Ifs and Ands, either to deny or iustifie, that which they haue spoken.’ 
 
 84. books for good manners, like ‘the card or calendar of gentry’to which 
 Osric compares Laertes (Hamlet v. 2. 114), evidently in allusion to the title 
 of some such book. Mr. Halliwell (Phillipps) quotes one by R. Whittinton, 
 translated from Erasmus, Be Civilitate Morum Puerilium, and printed in 
 1554: ‘ A lytle Booke of Good Maners for Chyldren with interpritation into 
 the vulgare Englysshe tongue.’ Overbury in his Characters says of ‘ A fine 
 Gentleman,’ ‘ He hath read the Booke of good manners, and by this time 
 each of his limbs may read it.’ 
 
 94. swore brothers, made themselves sworn brothers, like two friends who 
 took an oath to share each other’s fortunes. See note on Richard II, v. I. 
 20 (Clar. Press ed.) : 
 
 * I am sworn brother, sweet. 
 
 To grim Necessity, and he and I 
 Will keep a league till death.’ 
 
 And again, Henry V, ii. 1. 13 : ‘I will bestow a breakfast to make you 
 friends; and we’ll be all three sworn brothers to France.’ Also 2 Henry IV, 
 hi. 2. 345. 
 
 98. a stalking-horse was either a real horse or the figure of a horse, used 
 by sportsmen to get near their game. Steevens, in his note on Much Ado 
 about Nothing, ii. 3. 95 (‘Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits’), quotes from 
 
 Drayton’s Polyolbion, xxv. 141 : 
 
 * One underneath his horse to get a shoot doth stalk.’ 
 
 In Strutt’s Sports and Pastimes, i. 2. § 15, it is more fully described. 
 
 ‘ The Stalking Horse, originally, was a horse trained for the purpose and 
 covered with trappings, so as to conceal the sportsman from the game he 
 intended to shoot at. It was particularly useful to the archer, by affording 
 him an opportunity of approaching the birds unseen by them, so near that 
 his arrows might easily reach them; but as this method was frequently in¬ 
 convenient, and often impracticable, the fowler had recourse to art, and 
 caused a canvas figure to be stuffed, and painted like a horse grazing, but 
 sufficiently light, that it might be moved at pleasure with one hand.’ 
 
 99. -presentation , semblance. Compare Richard III, iv. 4* 84 : 
 
 ‘ I call’d thee then poor shadow, painted queen, 
 
 The presentation of but what I was.’ 
 
 For * present ’ in the sense of‘ represent, play the part of,’ see Love’s Labour’s 
 Lost, v. 2. 537 : * He presents Hector of Troy.’ 
 
 lb. The scene with Hymen is a kind of pageant contrived by Rosalind to 
 appear as if wrought by enchantment. It was accompanied by still or soft 
 music, like the similar scene in The Tempest. 
 
 102. Atone together, are reconciled or made one. As in Coriolanus, iv. 6. 72 : 
 ‘ He and Aufidius can no more atone 
 Than violentest contrariety.' 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 sc. 4.] 
 
 165 
 
 Elsewhere Shakespeare uses the word in a transitive sense. Compare 
 Richard II, i. 1. 202 : 
 
 ‘ Since we cannot atone you, we shall see 
 Justice design the victor’s chivalry.’ 
 
 The word is probably not much older than Shakespeare’s time. The verb 
 ‘atone’ does not occur in the Authorised Version; but we have there 
 in Acts vii. 26, 2 Macc. i. 5, the phrases ‘to set at one’ in the sense of 
 ‘to reconcile, and ‘to be at one’ in the sense of ‘to be reconciled,’ from 
 which it is derived. Chaucer (Clerk’s Tale, line 8313) has ‘ to brynge 
 at oon.’ The substantive ‘ atonement’ is found earlier than the verb * atone’; 
 and the latter appears to have been formed from ‘ at one,’ regarded as an 
 adverbial phrase, in the same way as verbs are formed from the adverbs 
 ‘ further,’ ‘ forward,’ etc. The spelling of the folios is ‘ Attone,’ which has 
 given occasion to the conjectural emendation * Attune.’ 
 
 105. hither. The rhyme is more perfect in the first folio, which spells 
 this ‘ hether.’ 
 
 106. her hand. The reading of the third and fourth folios. The others 
 have ‘ his hand.’ 
 
 107. Compare Love’s Labour’s Lost, v. 2. 826: 
 
 ‘ Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast.’ 
 
 III. For ‘ sight’ in Orlando’s speech Johnson proposed to read ‘ shape,’ 
 in consequence of Phebe’s answer : ‘ If sight and shape be true.’ But 
 Rosalind’s woman’s shape was more fatal to Phebe’s hopes than the mere 
 fact of her identity, whereas her identity was everything to Orlando. 
 
 117. bar, prohibit. So in Lear, v. 3. 85 ; 
 
 ‘ For your claim, fair sister, 
 
 I bar it in the interest of my wife.’ 
 
 122. If truth holds true contents, if there be any truth in truth. This 
 appears to be the only sense of which the poor phrase is capable. 
 
 123. The six following lines are addressed to the four couples, and are 
 easily distributed. 
 
 125. accord, agree, consent. So in Two Gentlemen of Verona, i. 3. 90 : 
 
 ‘ My heart accords thereto.’ 
 
 127. sure, closely united as in marriage. Compare Merry Wives of 
 Windsor, v. 5. 237 : 
 
 ‘ The truth is, she and I, long since contracted, 
 
 Are now so sure that nothing can dissolve us.’ 
 
 142. my fancy. See iii. 2. 334. 
 
 Ib. doth combine, or bind. Compare Measure for Measure, iv. 3. 149: 
 
 ‘ I am combined by a sacred vow.’ 
 
 Ib. Enter Jaques de Boys. The folios have ‘Enter Second Brother/ 
 Shakespeare, in elaborating the character of the melancholy Jaques, appears 
 to have forgotten that he had already appropriated the name to Orlando’s 
 second brother. 
 
i66 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act v. 
 
 148. Address’d, equipped, prepared. Compare 2 Henry IV, iv. 4. 5: 
 
 < Our navy is address’d, our power collected.’ 
 
 Ib. power, force; used of an army, as in Macbeth, iv. 3. 236: 
 
 * Come, go we to the king; our power is ready. 
 
 149. In his own conduct, under his own guidance, led by himself. Com¬ 
 pare Troilus and Cressida, ii. 2. 62 : 
 
 ‘ I take to-day a wife, and my election 
 Is led on in the conduct of my will.’ 
 
 152. religious. See iii. 2. 318. 
 
 153. question. See iii. 4- 3 1 - . » 
 
 lb. was converted. For the omission of the nominative see 1. I. I, and 
 
 Abbott, § 400. . . , 
 
 156. all their lands restored. This may be grammatically explained 
 
 either by regarding it as a continuation of the sentence in line 153 ‘was 
 converted/ the intervening line being parenthetical; or by supposing an 
 ellipsis of ‘were,’‘all their lands were restored ’ (see i. I. U, and the passage 
 from Antony and Cleopatra quoted below in note on line 164); or, which 
 seems best, as an independent participial clause, ‘ all their lands being restored. 
 
 15 8. engage, pledge. Compare Othello, iv. 3. 46* : ‘ I here my 
 
 words.’ Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) has ‘ Engager. To pawne, impledge, ingage, 
 to lay to pawne, or to pledge.’ 
 
 159. offer st fairly, contributest fairly, makest a handsome present. 
 
 160. to the other, that is, Orlando, by his marriage with Rosalind. 
 
 164. after, afterwards. See The Tempest, ii. 2. 10: 
 
 ‘ Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me 
 
 And after bite me.’ 
 
 Ib. every, every one. So ‘any’ for ‘any one’ in i. 2. 127. Compare 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra, i. 2. 38: 
 
 ‘ If every of your wishes had a womb, 
 
 And fertile every wish, a million.’ 
 
 And Bacon, Essay xv. p. 56 (ed. Wright) : ■ For the Motions of thegreatest 
 persons, in a Government, ought to be, as the Motions of the Manets, vn 
 Primum Mobile; (according to the old Opinion :) which is, That Every ot 
 them, is carried swiftly, by the Highest Motion, and softly in their owne 
 
 Motion.’ , c . 
 
 165. shrewd, bad, evil. In the Promptorium Parvulorum we find 
 
 ‘Schrewe. Pravus. Schrewyd. Pravatus , defravatus .’ To ‘shwwe m 
 Chaucer is to wish a person evil: as in The Wife of Bath’s Tale (line 6644, 
 
 ed. Tyrwhitt): , 
 
 ‘Nay than, quod she, I shrewe us bothe two.. 
 
 In the earlier Wicliffite Version of Genesis xxxix. 8, the Latin ‘ Qui nequa- 
 quam acquiescens operi nefario ’ is rendered * the which not assentynge to 
 the shrewid dede.’ In modern usage the word has a limited but improved 
 meaning. A shrew is a scold, one with a sharp tongue, or who in Eliza- 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 sc. 4.] 
 
 167 
 
 bethan English was * curst ’; and ‘ shrewd ’ passing through the sense of 
 ‘ sharp of tongue, censorious,’ has come to signify sharp or keen-witted. 
 
 171. measures. See above, line 43. 
 
 172. by your patience, by your leave, with your permission. See The 
 Tempest, iii. 3. 3 : 
 
 ‘ By your patience, 
 
 I needs must rest me.’ 
 
 And Lear, v. 3. 59: 
 
 ‘ Sir, by your patience, 
 
 I hold you but a subject of this war, 
 
 Not as a brother.’ 
 
 174. pompoxis, attended with pomp and ceremony. Compare Richard II, 
 iv. 1. 250 : 
 
 ‘For I have given here my soul’s consent 
 To undeck the pompous body of a king.’ 
 
 The word has now come to be chiefly if not entirely used in the sense of 
 ‘ ostentatious.’ 
 
 176. To him will I. See i. 2. 197. 
 
 lb. convertifes, converts. Compare King John, v. I. 19: 
 
 ‘ But since you are a gentle convertite, 
 
 My tongue shall hush again this storm of war.’ 
 
 And Lucrece, 743 : 
 
 ‘ He thence departs a heavy convertite.’ 
 
 Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) thus defines. ‘ Convers’: ‘ A coriuertite ; one that hath 
 turned to the Faith; or is woon vnto religious profession ; or hath abandoned 
 a loose to follow a godlie, a vicious to lead a vertuous, life.’ 
 
 177. matter. See ii. 1. 68. 
 
 178. bequeath, loosely used in the sense of ‘leave,’ as above, line 155. 
 Properly, like the A. S. becwcepan, it signifies only to give by will, and is 
 applied to personal property. This passage is not quoted by those who insist 
 upon Shakespeare’s intimate technical knowledge of law. 
 
 179* deserves. The singular verb often follows two substantives which 
 represent one idea. See Abbott, § 336. 
 
 Epilogue. 
 
 3. good wine needs no bush. An ivy bush or garland was formerly the sign 
 of a vintner. Steevens quotes from Gascoigne’s Glass of Government, 1575 '. 
 
 ‘ Now a days the good wyne needeth none ivye garland.’ 
 
 See also Florio, Second Frutes, p. 185 : ‘ Womens beauty ... is like vnto 
 an Iuy bush, that cals men to the tauern, but hangs itselfe without to v/inde 
 and wether. In many places to this day a bush is the sign of an inn. 
 Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) has ‘ Bouchon : m. A stopple; also, a wispe of strawc, 
 &c., also, the bush of a tauerne, or alehouse.’ Compare also Chaucer’s 
 description of the Sompnour (Prologue, lines 668, 9, ed. Tynvhitt): 
 
i68 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [act V. sc. 4.] 
 
 ‘ A gerlond hadde he sette upon his hede, 
 
 As gret as it were for an alestake.’ 
 
 7. insinuate with you, ingratiate myself with you. So Venus and Adonis, 
 1012 : 
 
 1 With Death she humbly doth insinuate.’ 
 
 8. furnished. See iii. 2. 227. 
 
 II. as please you. ‘Please’ is here the subjunctive, as in Much Ado 
 about Nothing, ii. 1. 56: * Yes, faith, it is my cousin’s duty to make curtsy 
 and say, “ Father, as it please you.” ’ 
 
 14, 15. If I were a woman. It was not till after the Restoration that 
 women’s parts in plays were regularly taken by women. Compare 
 Coriolanus, ii. 2. 100 : 
 
 * In that day’s feats, 
 
 When he might act the woman in the scene, 
 
 He proved best man i’ the field.’ 
 
 Pepys in his Diary has several allusions to this. The following quotations 
 are from the new edition by Mr. Bright. 
 
 August 18th, 1660. ‘Captain Ferrers took me and Crud to see the 
 Cockpitt play, the first that I have had time to see since my coming from 
 sea, “ The Loyall Subject,” where one Kinaston, a boy, acted the Duke’s 
 sister, but made the loveliest lady that ever I saw in my life ’ (i. 177, 178). 
 
 January 3, 1660. ‘To the Theatre, where was acted “Beggar’s Bush,” 
 it being very well done ; and here the first time that ever I saw women come 
 upon the stage ’ (i. 328). 
 
 January 8, 1660/1. ‘ After dinner I took my Lord Hinchinbroke and Mr. 
 Sidney to the Theatre, and shewed them “ The Widdow,” an indifferent 
 good play, but wronged by the women being to seek in their parts ’ (i. 240). 
 
 Feb. 12, 1660/1. ‘ By water to Salsbury Court play-house, where not 
 
 liking to sit, we went out again, and by coach to the Theatre, and there 
 saw “ The Scornfull Lady,” now done by a woman, which makes the play 
 appear much better than ever it did to me ’ (i. 259)- 
 
 16. liked, pleased. So in Two Gentlemen of Verona, iv. 2. 56 : ‘The 
 music likes you not.’ 
 
 17. defied, distrusted, disliked. Pepys, with all his gallantries, was of a 
 jealous complexion. At dinner at Sir W. Pen’s he meets ‘ Major Holmes, 
 who,’ says he, ‘ I perceive would fain get to be free and friends with my wife, 
 but I shall prevent it, and she herself hath also a defyance against him.’ 
 
 (i. 397 -) 
 
ADDENDA. 
 
 I. 3, 30. By this kind of chase, by following this course of argument. 
 
 II. 1. 24. Add to note —Perhaps however ‘ forked ’ was used loosely and 
 as equivalent to * barbed.’ For instance Cotgrave has, ‘ Dard barbillonne. 
 A dart that hath a forked, or barbed, head.’ See also s. v. Oreille, Rallion. 
 
 II. 5. 22. Compliment. Compare Chapman, An humerous dayes mirth, 
 (Works, i. 53) : ‘ So long as the complements of a gentleman last, he is your 
 complete ape.’ 
 
 II. 7. 39. Add to note, and Lyly’s Euphues (ed. Arber), p. 44 : ‘ Or if your 
 moist brain haue forgot it, you haue learned much, and profited nothing.’ 
 
 III. 2. 131, &c. Add reference to Love’s Labour’s Lost, iv. 3. 234, 5. 
 
 III. 2. 188, See. Add reference to Love’s Labour’s Lost, v. 2. 529. 
 
 III. 1. 255. Burton in his Anatomy of Melancholy (Part 2. Sect. 3. 
 Mem. 7), under the head of remedies against discontents, after quoting a 
 number of consolatory maxims, says, ‘ Look for more in Isocrates, Seneca, 
 Plutarch, Epictetus, Sec., and for defect, consult with cheese-trenchers and 
 painted cloths.’ 
 
 III. 2. 374. effeminate, womanish; and hence, fanciful, capricious. 
 
 III. 3. 65. Palsgrave (Lesclaircissement de la Langue Francoyse) has, 
 ‘ Oxebowe that gothe about his necke—collier de bevf.’ 
 
 III. 4. 39. For the ironical use of ‘ noble ’ see Cotgrave (Fr. Diet.) s. v. 
 Chien, * Chien-dent, Couch-grasse, Quich-grasse, Dogs-grasse ; also, a noble 
 stinker.’ 
 
 III. 5. 60. Cry the man mercy, beg his pardon. 
 
 IV. 3. 133. contrive, plot. Compare Midsummer Night’s Dream, iii. 2. 
 196. 
 
 V. 4. 102. atone. I have since found the verb in Sir Beves of Hamtoun, 
 1 . 3334 (Maitland Club ed.) : 
 
 * So thai atonede with oute sake.’ 
 
 V. 4. 178. bequeath. In Robert of Gloucester’s Chronicle, 6424, it is 
 applied to land, and it may be that the modern usage was not settled in 
 Shakespeare’s time : 
 
 ‘ & sede biuore all ]?e court • J>at king edmond biquej) • 
 
 Is kinedom Se al is lond • king knout biuore is de]?.’ 
 
 As You Like //.] 
 
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