As You Like It: Act 4, Scene 1

           Enter ROSALIND and CELIA and JAQUES.

  1   I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted
  2   with thee.

  3   They say you are a melancholy fellow.

  4   I am so; I do love it better than laughing.

  5   Those that are in extremity of either are abominable
  6   fellows and betray themselves to every modern
  7   censure worse than drunkards.

  8   Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing.

  9   Why then, 'tis good to be a post.

 10   I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is
 11   emulation, nor the musician's, which is fantastical,
 12   nor the courtier's, which is proud, nor the
 13   soldier's, which is ambitious, nor the lawyer's,
 14   which is politic, nor the lady's, which is nice, nor
 15   the lover's, which is all these: but it is a
 16   melancholy of mine own, compounded of many
 17   simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed
 18   the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which
 19   my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous
 20   sadness.

 21   A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason
 22   to be sad: I fear you have sold your own lands
 23   to see other men's; then, to have seen much and
 24   to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor
 25   hands.

 26   Yes, I have gained my experience.

 27   And your experience makes you sad: I had
 28   rather have a fool to make me merry than
 29   experience to make me sad; and to travel for it too!

           Enter ORLANDO.

 30   Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind!

 31   Nay, then, God buy you, and you talk in blank
 32   verse.

 33   Farewell, Monsieur Traveller: look you lisp and
 34   wear strange suits, disable all the benefits of your
 35   own country, be out of love with your nativity and
 36   almost chide God for making you that countenance
 37   you are, or I will scarce think you have swam in a
 38   gundella.

           [Exit Jaques.]

39   Why, how now, Orlando! where have you been
 40   all this while? You a lover! And you serve me such
 41   another trick, never come in my sight more.

 42   My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my
 43   promise.

 44   Break an hour's promise in love! He that will
 45   divide a minute into a thousand parts and break
 46   but a part of the thousandth part of a minute in
 47   the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid
 48   hath clapped him o' the shoulder, but I'll warrant
 49   him heart-whole.

 50   Pardon me, dear Rosalind.

 51   Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight.
 52   I had as lief be wooed of a snail.

 53   Of a snail?

 54   Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he
 55   carries his house on his head; a better jointure,
 56   I think, than you make a woman. Besides he
 57   brings his destiny with him.

 58   What's that?

 59   Why, horns, which such as you are fain to
 60   be beholding to your wives for: but he comes
 61   arm'd in his fortune and prevents the slander
 62   of his wife.

 63   Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is
 64   virtuous.

 65   And I am your Rosalind.

 66   It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a
 67   Rosalind of a better leer than you.

 68   Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a
 69   holiday humour and like enough to consent.
 70   What would you say to me now, an I were
 71   your very very Rosalind?

 72   I would kiss before I spoke.

 73   Nay, you were better speak first, and when you
 74   were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take
 75   occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are
 76   out, they will spit; and for lovers lacking—God
 77   warn us!—matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.

 78   How if the kiss be denied?

 79   Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins
 80   new matter.

 81   Who could be out, being before his beloved
 82   mistress?

 83   Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress,
 84   or I should think my honesty ranker than my
 85   wit.

 86   What, of my suit?

 87   Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your
 88   suit. Am not I your Rosalind?

 89   I take some joy to say you are, because I
 90   would be talking of her.

 91   Well, in her person, I say I will not have
 92   you.

 93   Then in mine own person I die.

 94   No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is
 95   almost six thousand years old, and in all this
 96   time there was not any man died in his own
 97   person, videlicit, in a love-cause. Troilus had
 98   his brains dashed out with a Grecian club; yet
 99   he did what he could to die before, and he is one
100   of the patterns of love. Leander, he would have
101   lived many a fair year, though Hero had turned
102   nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night;
103   for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him in
104   the Hellespont and being taken with the cramp was
105   drowned and the foolish chroniclers of that age found
106   it was 'Hero of Sestos.' But these are all lies: men have
107   died from time to time and worms have eaten them,
108   but not for love.

109   I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind,
110   for, I protest, her frown might kill me.

111   By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come,
112   now I will be your Rosalind in a more
113   coming-on disposition, and ask me what you
114   will. I will grant it.

115   Then love me, Rosalind.

116   Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and
117   all.

118   And wilt thou have me?

119   Ay, and twenty such.

120   What sayest thou?

121   Are you not good?

122   I hope so.

123   Why then, can one desire too much of a good
124   thing? Come, sister, you shall be the priest and
125   marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando. What
126   do you say, sister?

127   Pray thee, marry us.

128   I cannot say the words.

129   You must begin, 'Will you, Orlando—'

130   Go to. Will you, Orlando, have to wife this
131   Rosalind?

132   I will.

133   Ay, but when?

134   Why now; as fast as she can marry us.

135   Then you must say 'I take thee, Rosalind,
136   for wife.'

137   I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.

138   I might ask you for your commission; but I do
139   take thee, Orlando, for my husband: there's a
140   girl goes before the priest; and certainly a
141   woman's thought runs before her actions.

142   So do all thoughts; they are winged.

143   Now tell me how long you would have her
144   after you have possessed her.

145   For ever and a day.

146   Say 'a day,' without the 'ever.' No, no, Orlando; men
147   are April when they woo, December when they wed:
148   maids are May when they are maids, but the sky
149   changes when they are wives. I will be more jealous
150   of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen,
151   more clamorous than a parrot against rain, more
152   new-fangled than an ape, more giddy in my desires
153   than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like Diana
154   in the fountain, and I will do that when you are
155   disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and
156   that when thou art inclined to sleep.

157   But will my Rosalind do so?

158   By my life, she will do as I do.

159   O, but she is wise.

160   Or else she could not have the wit to do this: the
161   wiser, the waywarder: make the doors upon a
162   woman's wit and it will out at the casement; shut
163   that and 'twill out at the key-hole; stop that, 'twill
164   fly with the smoke out at the chimney.

165   A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might
166   say 'Wit, whither wilt?'

167   Nay, you might keep that cheque for it till you
168   met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's
169   bed.

170   And what wit could wit have to excuse that?

171   Marry, to say she came to seek you there.
172   You shall never take her without her answer,
173   unless you take her without her tongue. O,
174   that woman that cannot make her fault her
175   husband's occasion, let her never nurse her
176   child herself, for she will breed it like a fool!

177   For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave
178   thee.

179   Alas! dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours.

180   I must attend the duke at dinner: by two o'clock
181   I will be with thee again.

182   Ay, go your ways, go your ways; I knew what you
183   would prove: my friends told me as much, and I
184   thought no less: that flattering tongue of yours
185   won me: 'tis but one cast away, and so, come,
186   death! Two o'clock is your hour?

187   Ay, sweet Rosalind.

188   By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend
189   me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous,
190   if you break one jot of your promise or come one
191   minute behind your hour, I will think you the most
192   pathetical break-promise and the most hollow lover
193   and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind that
194   may be chosen out of the gross band of the
195   unfaithful: therefore beware my censure and keep
196   your promise.

197   With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my
198   Rosalind: so adieu.

199   Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such
200   offenders, and let Time try: adieu.

           Exit [ORLANDO].

201   You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate:
202   we must have your doublet and hose plucked over
203   your head, and show the world what the bird hath
204   done to her own nest.

205   O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou
206   didst know how many fathom deep I am in love! But
207   it cannot be sounded: my affection hath an unknown
208   bottom, like the bay of Portugal.

209   Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as you pour
210   affection in, it runs out.

211   No, that same wicked bastard of Venus that was begot
212   of thought, conceived of spleen and born of madness,
213   that blind rascally boy that abuses every one's eyes
214   because his own are out, let him be judge how deep I
215   am in love. I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out
216   of the sight of Orlando: I'll go find a shadow and
217   sigh till he come.

218   And I'll sleep.