 Act five of As You Like It. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. As You Like It by William Shakespeare. Act five. Scene one. The Forest. Enter Touchstone and Audrey. We shall find a time, Audrey. Patience, good Audrey. Faith. The priest was good enough for all the old gentlemen saying. A most wicked Sir Oliver Audrey. A most vile Mar-text. But Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest, lays claim to you. I, I know who it is. He have no interest in me in the world. Here comes the man you mean. It is me then drink to me to see a clown. By my troth, we that have good wits have much to answer for. We shall be flouting, we cannot hold. Enter William. Good evening, Audrey. God ye good even, William. And good even to you, sir. Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head. Nay, prithee be covered. How old are you, friend? Five and twenty, sir. A ripe age. Is thy name William? William, sir. A fair name. Was born in the forest here? Aye, sir. I thank God. Thank God. A good answer. Art rich? Faith, sir. So-so. So-so is good, very good, very excellent good, and yet it is not. It is but so-so. Art thou wise? Aye, sir. I have a pretty wit. 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? I do, sir. Give me your hand. Art thou learned? No, sir. Then learn this of me. To have is to have, for it is the 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 ipsy is he. Now you are not ipsy, for I am he. Which he, sir? 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, daest, 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 bastonato, or in steel. I will bandy with thee in faction. I will or run thee with policy. I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways. Therefore tremble and depart. Do you, good william. Gortres to marry, sir. Exit. Enter Corrin. Our master and mistress seeks you. Come away, away. Trip-odry, trip-odry. I attend, I attend. Exit. Scene two, the forest. Enter Orlando and Oliver. It's 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 persevere to enjoy her? 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 Helena. 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 Rollins, will I estate upon you? And here live and die a shepherd. You have my consent. Let your wedding be tomorrow. Lither I will invite the Duke and all's contented followers. Go you, and prepare Helena. For, look you, here comes my Rosalind. Enter Rosalind. God save you, brother. And to you, fair sister. Exit. Oh, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf. Tis my arm. I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. Did your brother tell you how I counter-fitted to swoon when he showed me your handkerchief? I in greater wonders than that. Oh, I know where you are. Nay, it is true. There was never anything so sudden, but the fight of two rams and caesars through sonical brag of I came, saw, and overcame. For your brother and my sister no sooner met, but they looked. No 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, or else be incontinent before marriage. They are in the very wrath of love, and they will together. Clubs cannot part them. They shall be married tomorrow, and I will bid the Duke to the nuptial. But, oh, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes. By so much the more shall I tomorrow be at the height of heart heaviness, by how much I shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for. Why, then, tomorrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind? I can live no longer by thinking. And will weary you then no longer with idle talking? Know of me, then, for I now speak to some purpose. That I know you are a gentleman of good conceit. I speak not this that you should bear a greater opinion of my knowledge in so much I say I know you are. Neither do I labor for a greater esteem than may in some little measure draw a belief from you, to do yourself good and not to grace me. Believe, then, if you please, that I can do strange things. I have since I was three-year-old conversed with a magician, most profound in his art and yet not damnable. If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries it out, when your brother marries Elena, 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 tomorrow, human as she is and without any danger. Speak is thou in sober meanings? 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 tomorrow you shall enter Rosalind, if you will. Enter Silvius and Phoebe. Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of hers. You have done me much un gentleness to show the letter that I rip to you. I care not if I have, it is my study to seem despiteful and un-gentle to you. You are there followed by a faithful shepherd, look upon him, love him, he worships you. Good shepherd, tell this youth what is to love. It is to be made of soys and tears, and so am I for Phoebe. And I for Ganymede. And I for Rosalind. And I for no woman. It is to be all made of faith and service, and so am I for Phoebe. And I for Ganymede. And I for Rosalind. And I for no woman. 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 Phoebe. And so am I for Ganymede. And so am I for Rosalind. And so am I for no woman. If this be so, why blame you me to love you? If this be so, why blame you me to love you? If this be so, why blame you me to love you? Who do you speak to? Why blame you me to love you? To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. Pray you know more of this, it is like the howling of Irish wolves against the moon. To Sylveus. I will help you, if I can. To Phoebe. I would love you, if I could. Tomorrow meet me all together. To Phoebe. I will marry you, if ever I marry woman. And I'll be married tomorrow. To Orlando. I will satisfy you, if ever I satisfy man, and you shall be married tomorrow. To Sylveus. I will content you, if what pleases you contents you, and you shall be married tomorrow. To Orlando. As you love Rosalind, meet. To Sylveus. As you love Phoebe, meet. And as I love no woman, I'll meet. So fare you well. I have left you commands. I will not fail, if we live. Nor I. Nor I. Exient. Scene three. The forest. Enter Touchstone and Audrey. Tomorrow is the joyful day, Audrey. Tomorrow will we be married. I de-desirate with all my heart, and I hope it is no dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of the world. Here comes two of the banished geeks' pages. Enter two pages. Well met, honest gentleman. By my troth well met. Come sit, sit, and a song. We are for you. Sit in the middle. Shall we clap into it roundly, without hawking, or spitting, or saying we a horse, which are the only prologues to a bad voice? In faith and faith, and both in a tune, like two gypsies on a horse. It was a lover and his lass with a hay, and a ho, and a hay, and a hay. Nani, nani, no. That whore, the green corn, feels it past. In spring time. In spring time. In spring time. The only pretty ring time. When birds do sing, hey, ding, eh, ding, eh, ding. Hey, ding, eh, ding, eh, ding. Hading, a-ding, a-ding, sweet lovers love the spring. In springtime, the only pretty ringtime When birds do sing, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, Hading, a-ding, a-ding, sweet lovers love the spring. Between the acres of the rye with a hay and a hoe and a hay, nonny-no and a hay, nonny, nonny, no. These pretty country folks would lie in springtime, in springtime, in springtime, the only pretty ringtime When birds do sing, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, sweet lovers love the spring in springtime. In springtime, the only pretty ringtime When birds do sing, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, sweet lovers love the spring. This carol they began the hour with a hay, with a hoe and a hay, nonny-no and a hay, nonny, nonny, no. How that alike was butterfly in springtime, in springtime, in springtime, the only pretty ringtime When birds do sing, hay-ding, a-ding, a-ding, hay-ding, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, a-ding, sweet lovers love the spring in springtime. In springtime, the only pretty ringtime When birds do sing, hey ding-a-ding-a-ding, Hey ding-a-ding-a-ding! Hey ding-a-ding-a-ding! Sweet lovers love the spring! It was! The lover and his last will! Hey Na-Ni-Na-Na! Na-Ni-Na-Na! And a hey-ho! Na-Ni-Na-Na! That or the green, the field, Stid past the green for field spring time, Truly, young gentleman, though there was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untunable. You are deceived, sir. We kept time. We lost not our time. By my troth, yes, I count it but time lost to hear such a foolish song. God be with you, and God mend your voices. Come, Audrey." Exeant. Scene 4 The Forest Enter Duke Sr., Amiens, Jaquies, Orlando, Oliver, and Celia. Does thou believe, Orlando, that the boy can do all this that he hath promised? I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not, as those that fear they hope and know they fear. Enter Rosalind, Sylveus, and Phoebe. Patience once more, whilst our compact is urged. You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, you will bestow her on Orlando here? That would I. Had I kingdoms to give with her. And you say you will have her when I bring her? That would I were I of all kingdoms, King. You say you'll marry me if I be willing? That will I, should I die the hour after. But, if you do refuse to marry me, you'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd. So is the bargain. You say that you'll have Phoebe, if she will? Oh, to have her and death were both one thing. 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. Keep your word, Phoebe, that you'll marry me, or else refusing me to wed this shepherd. Keep your word, Sylveus, that you'll marry her, if she refuse me, and from hence I go, to make these doubts all even. Exeant Rosalind and Celia. I do remember in this shepherd boy some lively touches of my daughter's favour. My Lord, the first time I ever saw him, he thought he was a brother to your daughter. But my good Lord, this boy is forest-born, and hath been tutored 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. 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. Salutation and greeting to you all. 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. If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation. I have tried a measure. I have flattered a lady. I have been politic with my friend, smooth with my enemy. I have undone three-tailers. I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought one. And how was that, Tane Up? Faith. We met, and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause. How seventh cause? Could my Lord like this fellow? I like him very well. Godildre 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 to marriage-binds and blood-breaks. A poor virgin, sir, an ill-favored thing, sir, but mine own. A poor humor 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. By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. According to the fool's bolts, sir, and such dulcet diseases. But for the seventh cause, how did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause? Upon a lie, seven times removed. Bear your body more seeming, Audrey. As thus, sir, I did dislike the cut of a certain courier's beard. He sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in 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 disabled my judgment. This is called the reply churlish. If again it was not well cut. He would answer, I spake not true. This is called the reproof valiant. If again it was not well cut, he would say I lied. This is called the counter-check quarrelsome, and so to the lie circumstantial, and the lie direct. And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut? I durs go no further than the lie circumstantial, nor he durs not give me the lie direct, and so we measured swords and parted. Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie? Oh, 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 counter-check 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 brothers. Or if is the only peacemaker, much virtue an if? Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? He's as good at anything, and yet a fool. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit. Enter Hyman, Rosland, and Celia, still music. Then is there mirth in heaven when earthly things made even atone together. Good Duke, receive thy daughter, Hyman from heaven brought her, yea, brought her hither, that thou mightst join her hand with his, whose heart within his bosom is. To Duke senior, to you I give myself, for I am yours, to Orlando, to you I give myself, for I am yours. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosland. If sight and shape be true, why then my love adieu? I'll have no father if you be not he, I'll have no husband if you be not he, nor an air-wed woman if you be not she. Peace ho, I bar confusion, tis I must make conclusion of these most strange events. Here's eight that must take hands to join in Hyman's bands, if truth holds true contents. You and you, no cross shall part. You and you are heart in heart. You to his love must accord, or have a woman to your lord. You and you are sure to gather, as the winter to fell weather. While so wedlock him we sing, feed yourselves with questioning, that reason wonder may diminish, how thus we met, and these things finish. Wedding is great, Juneau's crown, O blessed bond of board and bed, tis Hyman people's every town, I wedlock then be honoured, honour, high honour, and re now Hyman god of every town. Oh my dear niece, welcome thou art to me, even daughter, welcome in no less degree. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine, thy faith, my fancy, to thee doth combine. Enter, jacoise de Bois. Let me have audience for a word or two. I am the second son of old Sir Roland, that bring these tidings to this fair assembly. Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day men of great worth resorted to this forest, addressed the mighty power which were on foot in his own conduct, purposely to take his brother here and put him to the sword, and to the skirts of this wild wood he came, where meeting was an old religious man, after some question with him, was converted both from his enterprise and from the world. His crown bequeathed to his banished brother, and all their lands restored to them again that were with him exiled. This to be true, I do engage my life. Welcome young man, thou offest fairly to thy brother's wedding, to one his lands withheld, and to the other a land itself at large, a potent dukedom. Just 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, with measure heaped in joy to the measure's fall. Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly, the duke hath put on a religious life, and thrown into neglect the pompous court. He hath. To him will I. Out of these convertites there is much matter to be heard and learned. To duke senior. You to your former honour, I bequeath. Your patience and your virtue well deserves it. To Orlando. You to a love that your true faith doth merit. To Oliver. You to your land and love and great allies. To Silveus. You to a long and well-deserved bed. To Touchdown. And you to Wrangling. For thy loving voyages but for two months victualed. So to your pleasures. I am for other than for dancing measures. Stay, Jack-Wiz, stay! To see no pastime I what you would have, I'll stay to know what your abandoned cave. Exit. Proceed, proceed, we will begin these rites, as we do trust they'll end in true delights. A dance. Epilogue. 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, it is 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. What a case am I in, then, that I'm neither a good epilogue nor cannot insinuate with you on 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 shall please. If I were a woman I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me, and breasts that I defied not, and I am sure as many as have good beards or good faces or sweet breasts will, for my kind offer, when I make curtsy, bid me farewell. Exeant. End of Act Five. End of As You Like It, by William Shakespeare.