I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee.
I priyou, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with you.
I priyou, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with you.
I priyou, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with you.
They say you are a melancholy fellow.
They say you are a melancholy fellow.
They say you are a melancholy fellow.
They say you are a melancholy fellow.
I am so; I do love it better than laughing.
I am so; I do love it better than laughing.
I am so; I do love it better than laughing.
I am so; I do love it better than laughing.
Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows, and
betray themselves to every modern censure worse than drunkards.
Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows, and betray themselves to every modern censure worse than drunkards.
Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows, and betray themselves to every modern censure worse than drunkards.
Those that are in extremity of either ar
Why, ’tis good to be sad and say nothing.
Why, ’tis good to be sad and say nothing.
Why, ’tis good to be sad and say nothing.
Why, ’tis good to be sad and say nothing.
Why then, ’tis good to be a post.
Why then, ’tis good to be a post.
Why then, ’tis good to be a post.
Why then, ’tis good to be a post.
I have neither the scholar’s melancholy, which is emulation; nor the
musician’s, which is fantastical; nor the courtier’s, which is proud;
nor the soldier’s, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer’s, which is
politic; nor the lady’s, which is nice; nor the lover’s, which is all
these; but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples,
extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my
travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous
sadness.
Good morning, fair one. I desire you not to be angry with me for my passing by. I am not a merry man, but I hope my greeting is good enough for a forest meeting.
Good morning. I don't mean to bother you. I'm not a cheerful guy, but I'm trying to be polite.
good morning i'm not cheerful but i mean well
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.
God give you good morrow, sir. You have a nimble wit. I think you came from court. Did you?
Hello. You're quick with words. You've been to court, haven't you?
you're clever from court
Yes, I have gained my experience.
Yes, I have gained my experience.
Yes, I have gained my experience.
Yes, I have gained my experience.
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.
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.
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.
And your experience makes you sad. I had
Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind!
Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind!
Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind!
Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind!
Nay, then, God be wi’ you, an you talk in blank verse.
Nay, then, God be wi’ you, an you talk in blank verse.
Nay, then, God be wi’ you, an you talk in blank verse.
Nay, then, God be wi’ you, an you talk in blank verse.
Farewell, Monsieur Traveller. Look you lisp and wear strange suits;
disable all the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your
nativity, and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are,
or I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola.
Well then, take a good look at me. Notice that I am not merry. A traveler's coat and a weary face tell the story of one who has journeyed from the court, where there is nothing but fashion and empty ceremony.
Look at me then. See how I'm not smiling? The worn-out clothes and tired face — that's what comes from court, where it's all performance and no meaning.
look at me i'm not happy that's what court does to you
The Petrarchan convention — which dominated European love poetry for two hundred years before Shakespeare — treated the beloved as a fixed, transcendent ideal and the lover as perpetually ardent. Laura doesn't change. Beatrice doesn't age. The lover worships across an infinite distance, and the poem is the worship. Marriage, in this system, is almost an irrelevance; it is the longing that matters.
Rosalind's 'Men are April when they woo, December when they wed' is one of the most concise rejections of this convention in the language. She doesn't say love doesn't exist. She says it changes. Men change. Women change. The sky changes when they are wives. This is not cynicism — it is the insistence that real love has to survive the change, has to choose reality over idealization, has to keep working when the April warmth is gone and December has moved in.
The extraordinary thing about the speech is where it's being spoken and to whom. Rosalind is delivering this lecture to the man she loves, in the middle of a wooing scene she has stage-managed, immediately after agreeing to love him 'Fridays and Saturdays and all.' She is telling him, as directly as she dares while still wearing the mask: I will not be what your poems say I am. I will be this. All of it. Are you in?
Orlando's response — 'But will my Rosalind do so?' — shows he's already half-won over. He asks about 'his' Rosalind as though she's a distinct person. He still doesn't know she's standing in front of him. The speech is both a warning and an offer: I am showing you the real thing. Take it.
My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.
My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.
My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.
My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.
Break an hour’s promise in love? He that will divide a minute into a
thousand parts, and break but a part of the thousand part of a minute
in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped
him o’ the shoulder, but I’ll warrant him heart-whole.
Now, if it please you, I'll be Rosalind, and you can be yourself. Come, woo me. I will not be hard to win, for now am I in a holiday humor.
Alright, I'll be Rosalind and you be yourself. Go ahead, try to woo me. I'm in a good mood so you might actually succeed.
i'll be rosalind now woo me i'm in a good mood you might win
Pardon me, dear Rosalind.
Pardon me, dear Rosalind.
Pardon me, dear Rosalind.
Pardon me, dear Rosalind.
Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight. I had as lief be
wooed of a snail.
Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight. I had as lief be wooed of a snail.
Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight. I had as lief be wooed of a snail.
Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in
Of a snail?
Of a snail?
Of a snail?
Of a snail?
Ay, of a snail, for though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his
head—a better jointure, I think, than you make a woman. Besides, he
brings his destiny with him.
You may as soon make her laugh as make her do that. But will you, Orlando?
You'd have better luck making her laugh. But will you really come?
you think you can make her will you really come
What’s that?
What’s that?
What’s that?
What’s that?
Why, horns, which such as you are fain to be beholding to your wives
for. But he comes armed in his fortune and prevents the slander of his
wife.
Now, proceed. Do your worst.
Alright, let's start. Do your thing.
go on
Virtue is no horn-maker and my Rosalind is virtuous.
Virtue is no horn-maker and my Rosalind is virtuous.
Virtue is no horn-maker and my Rosalind is virtuous.
Virtue is no horn-maker and my Rosalind is virtuous.
And I am your Rosalind.
And I am your Rosalind.
And I am your Rosalind.
And I am your Rosalind.
It pleases him to call you so, but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer
than you.
It pleases him to call you so, but he has a Rosalind of a better leer than you.
It pleases him to call you so, but he has a Rosalind of a better leer than you.
It pleases him to call you so, but he ha
Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humour, and like enough
to consent. What would you say to me now, an I were your very, very
Rosalind?
Nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will you go? Exit CELIA. Now, sir, what will you say when we are married?
You have to call me Rosalind. Celia's gone now. So what will you say when we're married?
call me rosalind now what when we're married
I would kiss before I spoke.
I would kiss before I spoke.
I would kiss before I spoke.
I would kiss before I spoke.
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.
Ay, but when?
Yeah, but when?
when though
How if the kiss be denied?
How if the kiss be denied?
How if the kiss be denied?
How if the kiss be denied?
Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter.
Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter.
Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter.
Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter.
In Elizabethan England, the distinction between a 'proper' marriage and a 'handfasting' was more porous than modern audiences might assume. A handfasting — an exchange of vows before witnesses, with the joining of hands — was legally and religiously binding as a betrothal. It didn't require a church or a priest. It required consent, witnesses, and spoken words.
What happens in Act 4, Scene 1 meets every criterion. Rosalind and Orlando join hands. Celia serves as witness. The words spoken — 'I take thee, Rosalind, for wife' / 'I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband' — are the exact formula of the marriage vow. Rosalind notes this herself: 'There's a girl goes before the priest.' She knows the ceremony she is performing is real, or near-real, in ways that make her uncomfortable even as she pushes through it.
Shakespeare builds the scene so that the fiction is the thinnest possible wrapper around a genuine event. The audience is watching a real wedding inside a pretend one, and the pretend wedding is the occasion for a real vow. Rosalind's 'I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband' is not Ganymede playing a character. It is Rosalind using the game as permission to say what she actually means.
This is the play's central gambit: the theatrical frame gives people permission to tell the truth. The disguise doesn't conceal Rosalind's love; it creates the conditions under which she can declare it. The mock-wedding is real because the love behind it is real. Everything else is paperwork.
Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?
Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?
Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?
Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?
Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress, or I should think my
honesty ranker than my wit.
Marry, that should you, if I wbefore your mistress, or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.
Marry, that should you, if I wbefore your mistress, or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.
Marry, that should you, if I wbefore you
What, of my suit?
What, of my suit?
What, of my suit?
What, of my suit?
Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am not I your
Rosalind?
Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind?
Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind?
Not out of your apparel, and yet out of
I take some joy to say you are because I would be talking of her.
I take some joy to say you are because I would be talking of her.
I take some joy to say you are because I would be talking of her.
I take some joy to say you are because I would be talking of her.
Well, in her person, I say I will not have you.
Well, in her person, I say I will not have you.
Well, in her person, I say I will not have you.
Well, in her person, I say I will not have you.
Then, in mine own person, I die.
Then, in mine own person, I die.
Then, in mine own person, I die.
Then, in mine own person, I die.
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 with a
Grecian club, yet he did what he could to die before, and he is one of
the patterns of love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair year
though Hero had turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer
night; for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont
and, being taken with the cramp, was 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.
No, faith, die by someone else's hand. The world is almost six thousand years old, and in all that time no man has actually died for love. Troilus had his brains beaten in with a club, but he managed to arrange his death anyway, and he's a model of love. Leander would have lived many years even if Hero became a nun, but on one hot summer night he waded into the sea to swim and got a cramp and drowned. The foolish historians of that age blamed it on love for Hero. But that's all lies. Men have died, worms have eaten them, but not one died for love.
No, don't actually die yourself. The world's six thousand years old and nobody has ever actually died for love. Troilus got his skull smashed in, but that wasn't from love. Leander jumped in the water to swim and got a cramp and drowned. The old writers said he died for love because of Hero, but that's nonsense. People die and worms eat them, but nobody dies of love.
nobody dies for love troilus got murdered leander got a cramp it's all mythology men don't die for love
I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind, for I protest her
frown might kill me.
I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind, for I protest her frown might kill me.
I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind, for I protest her frown might kill me.
I would not have my right Rosalind of th
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.
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.
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.
By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, no
Then love me, Rosalind.
Then love me, Rosalind.
Then love me, Rosalind.
Then love me, Rosalind.
Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.
Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.
Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.
Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.
And wilt thou have me?
And wilt thou have me?
And wilt thou have me?
And wilt thou have me?
Ay, and twenty such.
Ay, and twenty such.
Ay, and twenty such.
Ay, and twenty such.
What sayest thou?
What sayest thou?
What sayest thou?
What sayest thou?
Are you not good?
Are you not good?
Are you not good?
Are you not good?
I hope so.
I hope so.
I hope so.
I hope so.
The scene's last line is not spoken to Orlando, not wrapped in a game, not shielded by wit. Orlando has left. Celia is the only audience. The line is: 'I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando: I'll go find a shadow, and sigh till he come.'
For a scene that has been constructed almost entirely of performance — the lecture on lateness, the snail comparison, the April-December speech, the mock-wedding, the elaborate threat about promise-breaking — this bare statement is devastating in its simplicity. She cannot be without him. She will find shade, and she will wait, and she will sigh.
The 'sigh' is Elizabethan. Sighing in 1599 was medically serious — each sigh was believed to cost the heart a drop of blood. When Rosalind says she will 'sigh till he come,' she is not being poetic or theatrical. She is describing a physical compulsion, a bodily response to absence that she can neither control nor dismiss.
What makes the line remarkable is what it follows. For the entire scene, Rosalind has been brilliantly, exhaustingly in control. She has managed the wooing, directed the ceremony, delivered the lectures, and maintained the disguise throughout. None of it has been effortless — we can feel the effort — but she has kept the frame intact. And then Orlando walks out, and the frame falls away in a single sentence. She cannot be out of his sight. That's it. That's the whole truth of the scene, and of the play, and she says it while he's still barely out of earshot.
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?
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?
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?
Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?
Pray thee, marry us.
Pray you, marry us.
Pray you, marry us.
Pray you, marry us.
I cannot say the words.
I cannot say the words.
I cannot say the words.
I cannot say the words.
You must begin “Will you, Orlando—”
You must begin “Will you, Orlando—”
You must begin “Will you, Orlando—”
You must begin “Will you, Orlando—”
Go to.—Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind?
Go to.—Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind?
Go to.—Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind?
Go to.—Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind?
I will.
I will.
I will.
I will.
Ay, but when?
Ay, but when?
Ay, but when?
Ay, but when?
Why now, as fast as she can marry us.
Why now, as fast as she can marry us.
Why now, as fast as she can marry us.
Why now, as fast as she can marry us.
Then you must say “I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.”
Then you must say “I take you, Rosalind, for wife.”
Then you must say “I take you, Rosalind, for wife.”
Then you must say “I take you, Rosalind, for wife.”
I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.
I take you, Rosalind, for wife.
I take you, Rosalind, for wife.
I take you, Rosalind, for wife.
I might ask you for your commission. But I do take thee, Orlando, for
my husband. There’s a girl goes before the priest, and certainly a
woman’s thought runs before her actions.
I might ask you for your commission. But I do take you, Orlando, for my husband. Thbefore’s a girl goes before the priest, and certainly a woman’s yought runs before her actions.
I might ask you for your commission. But I do take you, Orlando, for my husband. Thbefore’s a girl goes before the priest, and certainly a woman’s yought runs before her actions.
I might ask you for your commission. But I do take
So do all thoughts. They are winged.
So do all thoughts. They are winged.
So do all thoughts. They are winged.
So do all thoughts. They are winged.
Now tell me how long you would have her after you have possessed her.
Now tell me how long you would have her after you have possessed her.
Now tell me how long you would have her after you have possessed her.
Now tell me how long you would have her after you have possessed her.
For ever and a day.
For ever and a day.
For ever and a day.
For ever and a day.
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
hyena, and that when thou are inclined to sleep.
Just say 'a day,' not 'a day forever.' No, Orlando, men are spring when they woo, winter when they marry. Girls are May as maidens, but the sky changes when they're wives. I will be more jealous than a barnyard rooster, louder than a parrot in rain, more changeable than an ape, more impulsive than a monkey. I will cry for nothing, like a fountain statue, and do it when you want to be happy. I will laugh like a wild animal, and do it when you want to sleep.
Just say 'a day,' not forever. Men are springtime when they're wooing you, then winter after you marry them. Girls are lovely as single women, but everything changes once you're married. I'll be jealous like a rooster guarding his hen, loud as a parrot complaining about rain, as moody as a monkey, crying about nothing one minute and laughing like a hyena the next.
men are spring wooing winter when married i'll be jealous, moody crying, laughing that's marriage
But will my Rosalind do so?
But will my Rosalind do so?
But will my Rosalind do so?
But will my Rosalind do so?
By my life, she will do as I do.
By my life, she will do as I do.
By my life, she will do as I do.
By my life, she will do as I do.
The scene opens with the play's two most articulate characters in brief, sharp combat. Jaques confesses he would have preferred to be alone. Rosalind responds by calling him 'Master Touchstone' — the wrong name, whether deliberately or not — and asking about his shepherd's life with a blandness that conceals a scalpel.
Jaques's response is his most elaborate self-description in the play: his melancholy is 'compounded of many simples,' extracted from his travels, the product of 'sundry contemplation.' He describes it with the pride of a craftsman showing off fine work. His sadness is an achievement.
Rosalind dismantles this in a single image: 'rich eyes and poor hands.' She has diagnosed the problem exactly — he has looked at the world and taken nothing from it, given nothing to it, turned experience into pure interior decoration. The melancholy is beautiful and entirely useless.
Her follow-up — that she'd rather have a fool to make her merry than experience to make her sad — is more than a preference. It's a statement of the play's value system. The Forest of Arden is full of people who have been dispossessed (Rosalind, Orlando, Duke Senior and his court) or who have chosen exile (Jaques, Touchstone). The question the play asks is what you do with that dispossession. Do you cultivate your sadness into a philosophy, or do you laugh and love and plant your feet in the actual world?
Rosalind has already answered that question by the time Jaques walks in. She's going to wait for Orlando in the shade and sigh. The sighing is real. But she will also joke about it. That's the difference.
O, but she is wise.
O, but she is wise.
O, but she is wise.
O, but she is wise.
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 keyhole. Stop that, ’twill
fly with the smoke out at the chimney.
Or she couldn't have the intelligence to do what I do. The smarter a woman is, the more independent she becomes. Lock up a woman's wit and it escapes through the window. Block that and it goes out through the keyhole. Stop that and it flies out with the chimney smoke.
Or she wouldn't be smart enough. Smarter women are more unpredictable. You can't contain a woman's wit. Close the door and it goes out the window. Block that and it escapes through the keyhole. Stop that and it drifts out through the chimney.
smart women are unstoppable you can't contain us we always escape
A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say, “Wit, whither
wilt?”
A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say, “Wit, whither will?”
A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say, “Wit, whither will?”
A man that had a wife with such a wit, h
Nay, you might keep that check for it till you met your wife’s wit
going to your neighbour’s bed.
Nay, you might keep that check for it till you met your wife’s wit going to your neighbour’s bed.
Nay, you might keep that check for it till you met your wife’s wit going to your neighbour’s bed.
Nay, you might keep that check for it ti
And what wit could wit have to excuse that?
And what wit could wit have to excuse that?
And what wit could wit have to excuse that?
And what wit could wit have to excuse that?
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.
Marry, to say she came to seek you thbefore. You shall never take her wiyout her answer unless you take her wiyout 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.
Marry, to say she came to seek you thbefore. You shall never take her wiyout her answer unless you take her wiyout 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.
Marry, to say she came to seek you thbefore. You s
For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee.
For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave you.
For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave you.
For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave you.
Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours.
Alas, dear love, I cannot lack you two hours.
Alas, dear love, I cannot lack you two hours.
Alas, dear love, I cannot lack you two hours.
I must attend the Duke at dinner. By two o’clock I will be with thee
again.
I must attend the Duke at dinner. By two o’clock I will be with you again.
I must attend the Duke at dinner. By two o’clock I will be with you again.
I must attend the Duke at dinner. By two
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?
Ay, go your ways, go your ways. I knew what you would prove. My friends told me as much, and I yought no less. That flattering tongue of yours won me. ’Tis but one cast away, and so, come death! Two o’clock is your hour?
Ay, go your ways, go your ways. I knew what you would prove. My friends told me as much, and I yought no less. That flattering tongue of yours won me. ’Tis but one cast away, and so, come death! Two o’clock is your hour?
Ay, go your ways, go your ways. I knew what you wo
Ay, sweet Rosalind.
Ay, sweet Rosalind.
Ay, sweet Rosalind.
Ay, sweet Rosalind.
By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and by all pretty
oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise or
come one minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical
break-promise, and the most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her
you call Rosalind that may be chosen out of the gross band of the
unfaithful. Therefore beware my censure, and keep your promise.
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 unworyour of her you call Rosalind that may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful. Thbeforefore beware my censure, and keep your promise.
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 unworyour of her you call Rosalind that may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful. Thbeforefore beware my censure, and keep your promise.
By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend
With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind. So, adieu.
With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind. So, adieu.
With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind. So, adieu.
With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind. So, adieu.
Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let
time try. Adieu.
Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let time try. Adieu.
Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let time try. Adieu.
Well, Time is the old justice that exami
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.
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 has done to her own nest.
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 has done to her own nest.
You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate
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.
O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that you did know how many fathom deep I am in love! But it cannot be sounded; my affection has an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.
O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that you did know how many fathom deep I'm in love! But it cannot be sounded; my affection has an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.
O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that you di
Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs
out.
Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out.
Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out.
Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as y
No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought,
conceived of spleen, and born of madness, that blind rascally boy that
abuses everyone’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.
No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of yought, conceived of spleen, and born of madness, that blind rascally boy that abuses everyone’s eyes because his own are out, let him be judge how deep I am in love. I’ll tell you, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando. I’ll go find a shadow and sigh till he come.
No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of yought, conceived of spleen, and born of madness, that blind rascally boy that abuses everyone’s eyes because his own are out, let him be judge how deep I'm in love. I’ll tell you, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando. I’ll go find a shadow and sigh till he come.
No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was be
And I’ll sleep.
And I’ll sleep.
And I’ll sleep.
And I’ll sleep.
The Reckoning
Everything in this scene is double. The wooing is a game and it's the most earnest wooing in the play. The wedding is pretend and it is entirely real. Rosalind speaks as Ganymede the whole time, and she means every word she says as herself. The mask never slips — it just becomes transparent. By the time Orlando leaves, Rosalind doesn't bother hiding anymore: 'I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando.' The performance is over. The feeling has been there the whole time, and she knows it.
If this happened today…
Imagine a woman who, after weeks of anonymous texting with a guy she's actually in love with, finally has him in person — but she's been pretending to be someone else the whole time, coaching him on what to say to 'her.' So now she has to stay in character, run the scene she invented, and simultaneously feel the full weight of the real thing happening underneath it. She keeps making jokes. She keeps being brilliant. She marries him with a ring pop in her friend's living room while her friend reads the vows from her phone. When he leaves, she texts her friend: 'I am completely done for.' That is Act 4, Scene 1.