As You Like It: Act 3, Scene 2 Translation

A side-by-side translation of Act 3, Scene 2 of As You Like It from the original Shakespeare into modern English.

Original Text	Translated Text
Source: Folger Shakespeare Library
Enter Orlando, with a paper. ORLANDO Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love. And thou, thrice-crownèd 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, 5 And in their barks my thoughts I’ll character, That every eye which in this forest looks Shall see thy virtue witnessed everywhere. Run, run, Orlando, carve on every tree The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. 10 He exits. Enter Corin and Touchstone. CORIN And how like you this shepherd’s life, Master Touchstone? TOUCHSTONE Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd’s life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very 15 well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in respect 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 humor well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it 20 goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd? CORIN 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 25 friends; that the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn; that good pasture 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 good breeding or comes of a very dull 30 kindred. TOUCHSTONE Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in court, shepherd? CORIN No, truly. TOUCHSTONE Then thou art damned. 35 CORIN Nay, I hope. TOUCHSTONE Truly, thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side. CORIN For not being at court? Your reason. TOUCHSTONE Why, if thou never wast at court, thou 40 never saw’st good manners; if thou never saw’st good manners, then thy manners must be wicked, and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd. CORIN Not a whit, Touchstone. Those that are good 45 manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country as the behavior of the country is most mockable at the court. You told me you salute not at the court but you kiss your hands. That courtesy would be uncleanly if courtiers were shepherds. 50 TOUCHSTONE Instance, briefly. Come, instance. CORIN Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their fells, you know, are greasy. TOUCHSTONE Why, do not your courtier’s hands sweat? And is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as 55 the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow. A better instance, I say. Come. CORIN Besides, our hands are hard. TOUCHSTONE Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again. A more sounder instance. Come. 60 CORIN 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. TOUCHSTONE Most shallow man. Thou worms’ meat in respect of a good piece of flesh, indeed. Learn of the 65 wise and perpend: civet is of a baser birth than tar, the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd. CORIN You have too courtly a wit for me. I’ll rest. TOUCHSTONE Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, 70 shallow man. God make incision in thee; thou art raw. CORIN Sir, I am a true laborer. I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man’s happiness, glad of other men’s good, content with my harm, 75 and the greatest of my pride is to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck. TOUCHSTONE That is another simple sin in you, to bring the ewes and the rams together and to offer to get your living by the copulation of cattle; to be bawd to 80 a bell-wether and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to a crooked-pated old cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou be’st not damned for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds. I cannot see else how thou shouldst ’scape. 85	Back in the forest of Arden, Orlando busies himself posting poems on the trees of the forest, all dedicated to the oh-so-dreamy Rosalind. Corin and Touchstone enter, bantering as usual. Corin asks how Touchstone likes living "the shepherd's life" and the two men proceed to debate the pros and cons of country life vs. life at court. Touchstone bags on country manners and calls Corin a bumpkin for never having visited the court. Corin says that court manners are pretty ridiculous in the country. For instance, that the court custom of kissing hands would be silly in the country because shepherds are always handling sheep, which are smelly and "greasy." Touchstone compares shepherds to "bawds," saying that they are essentially pimps for cows. Um...we're not sure animal husbandry equates to prostitution, but hey, ten points to Touchstone for a pretty solid joke.
Enter Rosalind, as Ganymede. CORIN Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress’s brother. ROSALIND, as Ganymede, reading a paper "From the east to western Ind No jewel is like Rosalind. Her worth being mounted on the wind, 90 Through all the world bears Rosalind. All the pictures fairest lined Are but black to Rosalind. Let no face be kept in mind But the fair of Rosalind." 95 TOUCHSTONE I’ll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners and suppers and sleeping hours excepted. It is the right butter-women’s rank to market. ROSALIND, as Ganymede Out, fool. TOUCHSTONE For a taste: 100 If a hart do lack a hind, Let him seek out Rosalind. If the cat will after kind, So be sure will Rosalind. Wintered garments must be lined; 105 So must slender Rosalind. They that reap must sheaf and bind; Then to cart with Rosalind. Sweetest nut hath sourest rind; Such a nut is Rosalind. 110 He that sweetest rose will find Must find love’s prick, and Rosalind. This is the very false gallop of verses. Why do you infect yourself with them? ROSALIND, as Ganymede Peace, you dull fool. I found 115 them on a tree. TOUCHSTONE Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. ROSALIND, as Ganymede I’ll graft it with you, and then I shall graft it with a medlar. Then it will be the earliest fruit i’ th’ country, for you’ll be rotten 120 ere you be half ripe, and that’s the right virtue of the medlar. TOUCHSTONE You have said, but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge. Enter Celia, as Aliena, with a writing. ROSALIND, as Ganymede Peace. Here comes my sister 125 reading. Stand aside. CELIA, as Aliena, reads "Why should this a desert be? For it is unpeopled? No. Tongues I’ll hang on every tree That shall civil sayings show. 130 Some how brief the life of man Runs his erring pilgrimage, That the stretching of a span Buckles in his sum of age; Some of violated vows 135 ’Twixt the souls of friend and friend. But upon the fairest boughs, Or at every sentence’ end, Will I “Rosalinda” write, Teaching all that read to know 140 The quintessence of every sprite Heaven would in little show. Therefore heaven nature charged That one body should be filled With all graces wide-enlarged. 145 Nature presently distilled Helen’s cheek, but not her heart, Cleopatra’s majesty, Atalanta’s better part, Sad Lucretia’s modesty. 150 Thus Rosalind of many parts By heavenly synod was devised Of many faces, eyes, and hearts To have the touches dearest prized. Heaven would that she these gifts should have 155 And I to live and die her slave." ROSALIND, as Ganymede O most gentle Jupiter, what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried “Have patience, good people!” 160 CELIA, as Aliena How now?—Back, friends. Shepherd, go off a little.—Go with him, sirrah. TOUCHSTONE Come, shepherd, let us make an honorable retreat, though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. 165 Touchstone and Corin exit.	Rosalind enters (as Ganymede), reading some of Orlando's cheesy, rhyming poetry. Touchstone compares Orlando's rhymes to a stream of chatty dairywomen who are on their way to market. Then he mocks Orlando's verse by making up his own rhyming poem depicting Orlando's Rosalind as the kind of girl you don't bring home to Mom. As Touchstone teases, Celia enters, reading more terrible love poems found on the trees. Rosalind agrees that the poetry is awful, and Celia, clearly seeing some girl-talk is in order, sends Touchstone off with Corin so the two girls can chat.
CELIA Didst thou hear these verses? ROSALIND O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear. CELIA That’s no matter. The feet might bear the verses. 170 ROSALIND Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse. CELIA But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these 175 trees? ROSALIND I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you came, for look here what I found on a palm tree. She shows the paper she read. I was never so berhymed since Pythagoras’ 180 time that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember. CELIA Trow you who hath done this? ROSALIND Is it a man? CELIA And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. 185 Change you color? ROSALIND I prithee, who? CELIA O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to meet, but mountains may be removed with earthquakes and so encounter. 190 ROSALIND Nay, but who is it? CELIA Is it possible? ROSALIND Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is. CELIA O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful 195 wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all whooping! ROSALIND Good my complexion, dost thou think though I am caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of 200 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 might’st pour this concealed man out of thy mouth as wine comes out of a narrow-mouthed bottle—either too much at 205 once, or none at all. I prithee take the cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy tidings. CELIA So you may put a man in your belly. ROSALIND Is he of God’s making? What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a 210 beard? CELIA Nay, he hath but a little beard. ROSALIND Why, God will send more, if the man will be thankful. Let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. 215 CELIA It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler’s heels and your heart both in an instant. ROSALIND Nay, but the devil take mocking. Speak sad brow and true maid. CELIA I’ faith, coz, ’tis he. 220 ROSALIND Orlando? CELIA Orlando. ROSALIND Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet and hose? What did he when thou saw’st him? What said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What 225 makes he here? 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. CELIA You must borrow me Gargantua’s mouth first. ’Tis a word too great for any mouth of this age’s size. 230 To say ay and no to these particulars is more than to answer in a catechism. ROSALIND 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? 235 CELIA It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover. But take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with good observance. I found him under a tree like a dropped acorn. ROSALIND It may well be called Jove’s tree when it 240 drops forth such fruit. CELIA Give me audience, good madam. ROSALIND Proceed. CELIA There lay he, stretched along like a wounded knight. 245 ROSALIND Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground. CELIA Cry “holla” to thy tongue, I prithee. It curvets unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter. ROSALIND O, ominous! He comes to kill my heart. 250 CELIA I would sing my song without a burden. Thou bring’st me out of tune. ROSALIND Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. CELIA You bring me out. 255 Enter Orlando and Jaques. Soft, comes he not here? ROSALIND ’Tis he. Slink by, and note him. Rosalind and Celia step aside.	After some chitchat, it becomes clear to Celia that Rosalind hasn't figured out one important fact: The poems have obviously been written by Orlando. Celia teases as Rosalind pleads and begs to know who it is that's fawning over her so foolishly (and inarticulately). On discovering that Orlando is responsible, Rosalind gushes excitedly. Mostly, she is desperate to find out what Orlando's been up to, and most importantly, whether he knows she's been traipsing about the forest dressed as a boy. Also, she wants to know if he still looks as cute as he did the day he won the wrestling match. Just as Celia and Rosalind are fussing with each other over love, guess who should come strolling through the forest? It's Orlando! Rosalind and Celia stand off to the side and eavesdrop.
JAQUES, to Orlando I thank you for your company, but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. ORLANDO And so had I, but yet, for fashion sake, I 260 thank you too for your society. JAQUES God be wi’ you. Let’s meet as little as we can. ORLANDO I do desire we may be better strangers. JAQUES I pray you mar no more trees with writing love songs in their barks. 265 ORLANDO I pray you mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favoredly. JAQUES Rosalind is your love’s name? ORLANDO Yes, just. JAQUES I do not like her name. 270 ORLANDO There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened. JAQUES What stature is she of? ORLANDO Just as high as my heart. JAQUES You are full of pretty answers. Have you not 275 been acquainted with goldsmiths’ wives and conned them out of rings? ORLANDO Not so. But I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have studied your questions. JAQUES You have a nimble wit. I think ’twas made of 280 Atalanta’s heels. Will you sit down with me? And we two will rail against our mistress the world and all our misery. ORLANDO I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults. 285 JAQUES The worst fault you have is to be in love. ORLANDO ’Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you. JAQUES By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you. 290 ORLANDO He is drowned in the brook. Look but in, and you shall see him. JAQUES There I shall see mine own figure. ORLANDO Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher. JAQUES I’ll tarry no longer with you. Farewell, good 295 Signior Love. ORLANDO I am glad of your departure. Adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy. Jaques exits. ROSALIND, aside to Celia I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave 300 with him. As Ganymede. Do you hear, forester? ORLANDO Very well. What would you? ROSALIND, as Ganymede I pray you, what is ’t o’clock? ORLANDO You should ask me what time o’ day. There’s 305 no clock in the forest. ROSALIND, as Ganymede 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.	Orlando and Jaques are bickering. Jaques thinks Orlando is a fool of love, and Orlando suggests Jaques should…drown himself. Jaques exits. Seeing her chance, Rosalind (still disguised as Ganymede) decides to talk to her crush. Rosalind/Ganymede ambles up and asks Orlando what time it is. Orlando replies, like a genius, that there's no clock in the forest, which lets Rosalind/Ganymede launch into a dissertation about how a true lover could tell time easily—by his heart sighing every minute and groaning every hour.
ORLANDO And why not the swift foot of time? Had not that been as proper? ROSALIND, as Ganymede By no means, sir. Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I’ll tell you who time ambles withal, who time trots withal, 315 who time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal. ORLANDO I prithee, who doth he trot withal? ROSALIND, as Ganymede Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her marriage 320 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 seven year. ORLANDO Who ambles time withal? ROSALIND, as Ganymede With a priest that lacks Latin 325 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 330 penury. These time ambles withal. ORLANDO Who doth he gallop withal? ROSALIND, as Ganymede With a thief to the gallows, for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there. 335 ORLANDO Who stays it still withal? ROSALIND, as Ganymede With lawyers in the vacation, for they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how time moves. ORLANDO Where dwell you, pretty youth? 340 ROSALIND, as Ganymede With this shepherdess, my sister, here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat. ORLANDO Are you native of this place? ROSALIND, as Ganymede As the cony that you see 345 dwell where she is kindled. ORLANDO Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling. ROSALIND, as Ganymede I have been told so of many. But indeed an old religious uncle of mine taught 350 me to speak, who was in his youth an inland man, one that knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love. I have heard him read many lectures against it, and I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched with so many giddy offenses as he hath generally 355 taxed their whole sex withal. ORLANDO Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge of women? ROSALIND, as Ganymede There were none principal. They were all like one another as halfpence are, 360 every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow fault came to match it. ORLANDO I prithee recount some of them. ROSALIND, as Ganymede No, I will not cast away my physic but on those that are sick. There is a man 365 haunts the forest that abuses our young plants with carving “Rosalind” on their barks, hangs odes upon hawthorns and elegies on brambles, all, forsooth, deifying the name of Rosalind. If I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give him some good 370 counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him. ORLANDO I am he that is so love-shaked. I pray you tell me your remedy. ROSALIND, as Ganymede There is none of my uncle’s 375 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. ORLANDO What were his marks? ROSALIND, as Ganymede A lean cheek, which you 380 have not; a blue eye and sunken, which you have not; an unquestionable spirit, which you have not; a beard neglected, which you have not—but I pardon you for that, for simply your having in beard is a younger brother’s revenue. Then your hose should 385 be ungartered, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and everything about you demonstrating a careless desolation. But you are no such man. You are rather point-device in your accouterments, as loving yourself than seeming 390 the lover of any other.	Rosalind/Ganymede proposes that time seems to pass at different speeds for various people, depending on what they're up to (i.e., time flies when you're about to be hanged; wait—isn't that supposed to be "when you're having fun"?) Orlando asks the "boy" where he lives and Rosalind/Ganymede claims to live with a "sister," Aliena. Rosalind/Ganymede claims that though she was raised in the forest, she picked up his courtly accent from his uncle. Rosalind/Ganymede then complains about the idiot who has been trashing the forest with bad poetry about some girl named "Rosalind." Orlando admits he's the prolific poet and asks Rosalind/Ganymede to help him. (R/G has suggested that she has a remedy for love sickness, passed on to her by her uncle.) Rosalind/Ganymede quips that Orlando can't possibly be in love because he lacks all of the tell-tale signs of being in love: basically looking unhealthy and disheveled. Plus Orlando is so well-groomed that he's clearly enamored of himself as much as anyone else.
ORLANDO Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love. ROSALIND, as Ganymede Me believe it? You may as soon make her that you love believe it, which I 395 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? 400 ORLANDO I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. ROSALIND, as Ganymede But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak? ORLANDO Neither rhyme nor reason can express how 405 much. ROSALIND, as Ganymede Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do; and the reason why they are not so punished and cured is that the lunacy is so 410 ordinary that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel. ORLANDO Did you ever cure any so? ROSALIND, as Ganymede Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to imagine me his love, his mistress, 415 and I set him every day to woo me; 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 something, and for 420 no passion truly anything, as boys and women are, for the most part, cattle of this color; 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 humor of love 425 to a living humor 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 liver as clean as a sound sheep’s heart, that there shall not 430 be one spot of love in ’t. ORLANDO I would not be cured, youth. ROSALIND, as Ganymede I would cure you if you would but call me Rosalind and come every day to my cote and woo me. 435 ORLANDO Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me where it is. ROSALIND, as Ganymede Go with me to it, and I’ll show it you; and by the way you shall tell me where in the forest you live. Will you go? 440 ORLANDO With all my heart, good youth. ROSALIND, as Ganymede Nay, you must call me Rosalind.—Come, sister, will you go? They exit.	Orlando says he can convince Ganymede of his love for Rosalind. Rosalind/Ganymede declares that s/he can cure Orlando of his lovesickness. The plan unfurls. Rosalind/Ganymede claims to have cured another man of love by having the man visit every day, to pretend Ganymede was his mistress. Rosalind/Ganymede says s/he then abused the lovesick man with all the attitude you'd only tolerate when in love. Eventually, Rosalind/Ganymede gave him so much grief that the poor guy gave up to live as a monk. Orlando claims that such a tactic wouldn't cure him of his love, but Rosalind/Ganymede insists it will work and gets Orlando to agree to visit every day, pretending to woo him (her) to prove it. Rosalind/Ganymede, pleased at this outcome, says Orlando must call her/him Rosalind from now on, which is so very fitting and so very, very weird at the same time.

Original Text

Translated Text

Enter Orlando, with a paper.

ORLANDO
Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love.
And thou, thrice-crownèd 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, 5
And in their barks my thoughts I’ll character,
That every eye which in this forest looks
Shall see thy virtue witnessed everywhere.
Run, run, Orlando, carve on every tree
The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. 10

He exits.

Enter Corin and Touchstone.

CORIN And how like you this shepherd’s life, Master
Touchstone?

TOUCHSTONE Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a
good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd’s life, it
is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very 15
well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile
life. Now in respect 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
humor well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it 20
goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy
in thee, shepherd?

CORIN 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 25
friends; that the property of rain is to wet, and fire
to burn; that good pasture 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 good breeding or comes of a very dull 30
kindred.

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

CORIN No, truly.

TOUCHSTONE Then thou art damned. 35

CORIN Nay, I hope.

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

CORIN For not being at court? Your reason.

TOUCHSTONE Why, if thou never wast at court, thou 40
never saw’st good manners; if thou never saw’st
good manners, then thy manners must be wicked,
and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou
art in a parlous state, shepherd.

CORIN Not a whit, Touchstone. Those that are good 45
manners at the court are as ridiculous in the
country as the behavior of the country is most
mockable at the court. You told me you salute not at
the court but you kiss your hands. That courtesy
would be uncleanly if courtiers were shepherds. 50

TOUCHSTONE Instance, briefly. Come, instance.

CORIN Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their
fells, you know, are greasy.

TOUCHSTONE Why, do not your courtier’s hands sweat?
And is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as 55
the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow. A better
instance, I say. Come.

CORIN Besides, our hands are hard.

TOUCHSTONE Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow
again. A more sounder instance. Come. 60

CORIN 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.

TOUCHSTONE Most shallow man. Thou worms’ meat in
respect of a good piece of flesh, indeed. Learn of the 65
wise and perpend: civet is of a baser birth than tar,
the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance,
shepherd.

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

TOUCHSTONE Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, 70
shallow man. God make incision in thee; thou art
raw.

CORIN Sir, I am a true laborer. I earn that I eat, get that
I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man’s happiness,
glad of other men’s good, content with my harm, 75
and the greatest of my pride is to see my ewes graze
and my lambs suck.

TOUCHSTONE That is another simple sin in you, to bring
the ewes and the rams together and to offer to get
your living by the copulation of cattle; to be bawd to 80
a bell-wether and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth
to a crooked-pated old cuckoldly ram, out of
all reasonable match. If thou be’st not damned for
this, the devil himself will have no shepherds. I
cannot see else how thou shouldst ’scape. 85

Back in the forest of Arden, Orlando busies himself posting poems on the trees of the forest, all dedicated to the oh-so-dreamy Rosalind.

Corin and Touchstone enter, bantering as usual.

Corin asks how Touchstone likes living "the shepherd's life" and the two men proceed to debate the pros and cons of country life vs. life at court.

Touchstone bags on country manners and calls Corin a bumpkin for never having visited the court.

Corin says that court manners are pretty ridiculous in the country. For instance, that the court custom of kissing hands would be silly in the country because shepherds are always handling sheep, which are smelly and "greasy."

Touchstone compares shepherds to "bawds," saying that they are essentially pimps for cows. Um...we're not sure animal husbandry equates to prostitution, but hey, ten points to Touchstone for a pretty solid joke.

Enter Rosalind, as Ganymede.

CORIN Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new
mistress’s brother.

ROSALIND, as Ganymede, reading a paper
"From the east to western Ind
No jewel is like Rosalind.
Her worth being mounted on the wind, 90
Through all the world bears Rosalind.
All the pictures fairest lined
Are but black to Rosalind.
Let no face be kept in mind
But the fair of Rosalind." 95

TOUCHSTONE I’ll rhyme you so eight years together,
dinners and suppers and sleeping hours excepted.
It is the right butter-women’s rank to market.

ROSALIND, as Ganymede Out, fool.

TOUCHSTONE For a taste: 100
If a hart do lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalind.
If the cat will after kind,
So be sure will Rosalind.
Wintered garments must be lined; 105
So must slender Rosalind.
They that reap must sheaf and bind;
Then to cart with Rosalind.
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind;
Such a nut is Rosalind. 110
He that sweetest rose will find
Must find love’s prick, and Rosalind.
This is the very false gallop of verses. Why do you
infect yourself with them?

ROSALIND, as Ganymede Peace, you dull fool. I found 115
them on a tree.

TOUCHSTONE Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.

ROSALIND, as Ganymede I’ll graft it with you, and
then I shall graft it with a medlar. Then it will be
the earliest fruit i’ th’ country, for you’ll be rotten 120
ere you be half ripe, and that’s the right virtue of
the medlar.

TOUCHSTONE You have said, but whether wisely or no,
let the forest judge.

Enter Celia, as Aliena, with a writing.

ROSALIND, as Ganymede Peace. Here comes my sister 125
reading. Stand aside.

CELIA, as Aliena, reads
"Why should this a desert be?
For it is unpeopled? No.
Tongues I’ll hang on every tree
That shall civil sayings show. 130
Some how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage,
That the stretching of a span
Buckles in his sum of age;
Some of violated vows 135
’Twixt the souls of friend and friend.
But upon the fairest boughs,
Or at every sentence’ end,
Will I “Rosalinda” write,
Teaching all that read to know 140
The quintessence of every sprite
Heaven would in little show.
Therefore heaven nature charged
That one body should be filled
With all graces wide-enlarged. 145
Nature presently distilled
Helen’s cheek, but not her heart,
Cleopatra’s majesty,
Atalanta’s better part,
Sad Lucretia’s modesty. 150
Thus Rosalind of many parts
By heavenly synod was devised
Of many faces, eyes, and hearts
To have the touches dearest prized.
Heaven would that she these gifts should have 155
And I to live and die her slave."

ROSALIND, as Ganymede O most gentle Jupiter, what
tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners
withal, and never cried “Have patience,
good people!” 160

CELIA, as Aliena How now?—Back, friends. Shepherd,
go off a little.—Go with him, sirrah.

TOUCHSTONE Come, shepherd, let us make an honorable
retreat, though not with bag and baggage, yet
with scrip and scrippage. 165

Touchstone and Corin exit.

Rosalind enters (as Ganymede), reading some of Orlando's cheesy, rhyming poetry.

Touchstone compares Orlando's rhymes to a stream of chatty dairywomen who are on their way to market. Then he mocks Orlando's verse by making up his own rhyming poem depicting Orlando's Rosalind as the kind of girl you don't bring home to Mom.

As Touchstone teases, Celia enters, reading more terrible love poems found on the trees.

Rosalind agrees that the poetry is awful, and Celia, clearly seeing some girl-talk is in order, sends Touchstone off with Corin so the two girls can chat.

CELIA Didst thou hear these verses?

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

CELIA That’s no matter. The feet might bear the verses. 170

ROSALIND Ay, but the feet were lame and could not
bear themselves without the verse, and therefore
stood lamely in the verse.

CELIA But didst thou hear without wondering how thy
name should be hanged and carved upon these 175
trees?

ROSALIND I was seven of the nine days out of the
wonder before you came, for look here what I
found on a palm tree. She shows the paper she
read. I was never so berhymed since Pythagoras’ 180
time that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly
remember.

CELIA Trow you who hath done this?

ROSALIND Is it a man?

CELIA And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. 185
Change you color?

ROSALIND I prithee, who?

CELIA O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to
meet, but mountains may be removed with earthquakes
and so encounter. 190

ROSALIND Nay, but who is it?

CELIA Is it possible?

ROSALIND Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary
vehemence, tell me who it is.

CELIA O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful 195
wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that
out of all whooping!

ROSALIND Good my complexion, dost thou think
though I am caparisoned like a man, I have a
doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of 200
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 might’st pour this
concealed man out of thy mouth as wine comes out
of a narrow-mouthed bottle—either too much at 205
once, or none at all. I prithee take the cork out of
thy mouth, that I may drink thy tidings.

CELIA So you may put a man in your belly.

ROSALIND Is he of God’s making? What manner of
man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a 210
beard?

CELIA Nay, he hath but a little beard.

ROSALIND Why, God will send more, if the man will be
thankful. Let me stay the growth of his beard, if
thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. 215

CELIA It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler’s
heels and your heart both in an instant.

ROSALIND Nay, but the devil take mocking. Speak sad
brow and true maid.

CELIA I’ faith, coz, ’tis he. 220

ROSALIND Orlando?

CELIA Orlando.

ROSALIND Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet
and hose? What did he when thou saw’st him? What
said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What 225
makes he here? 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.

CELIA You must borrow me Gargantua’s mouth first.
’Tis a word too great for any mouth of this age’s size. 230
To say ay and no to these particulars is more than to
answer in a catechism.

ROSALIND 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? 235

CELIA It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the
propositions of a lover. But take a taste of my
finding him, and relish it with good observance. I
found him under a tree like a dropped acorn.

ROSALIND It may well be called Jove’s tree when it 240
drops forth such fruit.

CELIA Give me audience, good madam.

ROSALIND Proceed.

CELIA There lay he, stretched along like a wounded
knight. 245

ROSALIND Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well
becomes the ground.

CELIA Cry “holla” to thy tongue, I prithee. It curvets
unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter.

ROSALIND O, ominous! He comes to kill my heart. 250

CELIA I would sing my song without a burden. Thou
bring’st me out of tune.

ROSALIND Do you not know I am a woman? When I
think, I must speak. Sweet, say on.

CELIA You bring me out. 255

Enter Orlando and Jaques.

Soft, comes he not here?

ROSALIND ’Tis he. Slink by, and note him.

Rosalind and Celia step aside.

After some chitchat, it becomes clear to Celia that Rosalind hasn't figured out one important fact: The poems have obviously been written by Orlando.

Celia teases as Rosalind pleads and begs to know who it is that's fawning over her so foolishly (and inarticulately). On discovering that Orlando is responsible, Rosalind gushes excitedly.

Mostly, she is desperate to find out what Orlando's been up to, and most importantly, whether he knows she's been traipsing about the forest dressed as a boy. Also, she wants to know if he still looks as cute as he did the day he won the wrestling match.

Just as Celia and Rosalind are fussing with each other over love, guess who should come strolling through the forest? It's Orlando!

Rosalind and Celia stand off to the side and eavesdrop.

JAQUES, to Orlando I thank you for your company,
but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.

ORLANDO And so had I, but yet, for fashion sake, I 260
thank you too for your society.

JAQUES God be wi’ you. Let’s meet as little as we can.

ORLANDO I do desire we may be better strangers.

JAQUES I pray you mar no more trees with writing love
songs in their barks. 265

ORLANDO I pray you mar no more of my verses with
reading them ill-favoredly.

JAQUES Rosalind is your love’s name?

ORLANDO Yes, just.

JAQUES I do not like her name. 270

ORLANDO There was no thought of pleasing you when
she was christened.

JAQUES What stature is she of?

ORLANDO Just as high as my heart.

JAQUES You are full of pretty answers. Have you not 275
been acquainted with goldsmiths’ wives and
conned them out of rings?

ORLANDO Not so. But I answer you right painted cloth,
from whence you have studied your questions.

JAQUES You have a nimble wit. I think ’twas made of 280
Atalanta’s heels. Will you sit down with me? And we
two will rail against our mistress the world and all
our misery.

ORLANDO I will chide no breather in the world but
myself, against whom I know most faults. 285

JAQUES The worst fault you have is to be in love.

ORLANDO ’Tis a fault I will not change for your best
virtue. I am weary of you.

JAQUES By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I
found you. 290

ORLANDO He is drowned in the brook. Look but in, and
you shall see him.

JAQUES There I shall see mine own figure.

ORLANDO Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher.

JAQUES I’ll tarry no longer with you. Farewell, good 295
Signior Love.

ORLANDO I am glad of your departure. Adieu, good
Monsieur Melancholy.

Jaques exits.

ROSALIND, aside to Celia I will speak to him like a
saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave 300
with him. As Ganymede. Do you hear, forester?

ORLANDO Very well. What would you?

ROSALIND, as Ganymede I pray you, what is ’t
o’clock?

ORLANDO You should ask me what time o’ day. There’s 305
no clock in the forest.

ROSALIND, as Ganymede 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.

Orlando and Jaques are bickering. Jaques thinks Orlando is a fool of love, and Orlando suggests Jaques should…drown himself.

Jaques exits.

Seeing her chance, Rosalind (still disguised as Ganymede) decides to talk to her crush.

Rosalind/Ganymede ambles up and asks Orlando what time it is.

Orlando replies, like a genius, that there's no clock in the forest, which lets Rosalind/Ganymede launch into a dissertation about how a true lover could tell time easily—by his heart sighing every minute and groaning every hour.

ORLANDO And why not the swift foot of time? Had not
that been as proper?

ROSALIND, as Ganymede By no means, sir. Time
travels in divers paces with divers persons. I’ll tell
you who time ambles withal, who time trots withal, 315
who time gallops withal, and who he stands still
withal.

ORLANDO I prithee, who doth he trot withal?

ROSALIND, as Ganymede Marry, he trots hard with a
young maid between the contract of her marriage 320
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 seven year.

ORLANDO Who ambles time withal?

ROSALIND, as Ganymede With a priest that lacks Latin 325
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 330
penury. These time ambles withal.

ORLANDO Who doth he gallop withal?

ROSALIND, as Ganymede With a thief to the gallows,
for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks
himself too soon there. 335

ORLANDO Who stays it still withal?

ROSALIND, as Ganymede With lawyers in the vacation,
for they sleep between term and term, and
then they perceive not how time moves.

ORLANDO Where dwell you, pretty youth? 340

ROSALIND, as Ganymede With this shepherdess, my
sister, here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe
upon a petticoat.

ORLANDO Are you native of this place?

ROSALIND, as Ganymede As the cony that you see 345
dwell where she is kindled.

ORLANDO Your accent is something finer than you
could purchase in so removed a dwelling.

ROSALIND, as Ganymede I have been told so of many.
But indeed an old religious uncle of mine taught 350
me to speak, who was in his youth an inland man,
one that knew courtship too well, for there he fell in
love. I have heard him read many lectures against it,
and I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched
with so many giddy offenses as he hath generally 355
taxed their whole sex withal.

ORLANDO Can you remember any of the principal evils
that he laid to the charge of women?

ROSALIND, as Ganymede There were none principal.
They were all like one another as halfpence are, 360
every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow
fault came to match it.

ORLANDO I prithee recount some of them.

ROSALIND, as Ganymede No, I will not cast away my
physic but on those that are sick. There is a man 365
haunts the forest that abuses our young plants with
carving “Rosalind” on their barks, hangs odes upon
hawthorns and elegies on brambles, all, forsooth,
deifying the name of Rosalind. If I could meet
that fancy-monger, I would give him some good 370
counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love
upon him.

ORLANDO I am he that is so love-shaked. I pray you tell
me your remedy.

ROSALIND, as Ganymede There is none of my uncle’s 375
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.

ORLANDO What were his marks?

ROSALIND, as Ganymede A lean cheek, which you 380
have not; a blue eye and sunken, which you have
not; an unquestionable spirit, which you have not; a
beard neglected, which you have not—but I pardon
you for that, for simply your having in beard is a
younger brother’s revenue. Then your hose should 385
be ungartered, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve
unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and everything
about you demonstrating a careless desolation. But
you are no such man. You are rather point-device in
your accouterments, as loving yourself than seeming 390
the lover of any other.

Rosalind/Ganymede proposes that time seems to pass at different speeds for various people, depending on what they're up to (i.e., time flies when you're about to be hanged; wait—isn't that supposed to be "when you're having fun"?)

Orlando asks the "boy" where he lives and Rosalind/Ganymede claims to live with a "sister," Aliena. Rosalind/Ganymede claims that though she was raised in the forest, she picked up his courtly accent from his uncle.

Rosalind/Ganymede then complains about the idiot who has been trashing the forest with bad poetry about some girl named "Rosalind."

Orlando admits he's the prolific poet and asks Rosalind/Ganymede to help him. (R/G has suggested that she has a remedy for love sickness, passed on to her by her uncle.)

Rosalind/Ganymede quips that Orlando can't possibly be in love because he lacks all of the tell-tale signs of being in love: basically looking unhealthy and disheveled. Plus Orlando is so well-groomed that he's clearly enamored of himself as much as anyone else.

ORLANDO Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe
I love.

ROSALIND, as Ganymede Me believe it? You may as
soon make her that you love believe it, which I 395
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? 400

ORLANDO I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of
Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.

ROSALIND, as Ganymede But are you so much in love
as your rhymes speak?

ORLANDO Neither rhyme nor reason can express how 405
much.

ROSALIND, as Ganymede Love is merely a madness,
and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a
whip as madmen do; and the reason why they are
not so punished and cured is that the lunacy is so 410
ordinary that the whippers are in love too. Yet I
profess curing it by counsel.

ORLANDO Did you ever cure any so?

ROSALIND, as Ganymede Yes, one, and in this manner.
He was to imagine me his love, his mistress, 415
and I set him every day to woo me; 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 something, and for 420
no passion truly anything, as boys and women are,
for the most part, cattle of this color; 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 humor of love 425
to a living humor 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 liver as
clean as a sound sheep’s heart, that there shall not 430
be one spot of love in ’t.

ORLANDO I would not be cured, youth.

ROSALIND, as Ganymede I would cure you if you
would but call me Rosalind and come every day to
my cote and woo me. 435

ORLANDO Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me
where it is.

ROSALIND, as Ganymede Go with me to it, and I’ll
show it you; and by the way you shall tell me where
in the forest you live. Will you go? 440

ORLANDO With all my heart, good youth.

ROSALIND, as Ganymede Nay, you must call me
Rosalind.—Come, sister, will you go?

They exit.

Orlando says he can convince Ganymede of his love for Rosalind.

Rosalind/Ganymede declares that s/he can cure Orlando of his lovesickness.

The plan unfurls. Rosalind/Ganymede claims to have cured another man of love by having the man visit every day, to pretend Ganymede was his mistress. Rosalind/Ganymede says s/he then abused the lovesick man with all the attitude you'd only tolerate when in love. Eventually, Rosalind/Ganymede gave him so much grief that the poor guy gave up to live as a monk.

Orlando claims that such a tactic wouldn't cure him of his love, but Rosalind/Ganymede insists it will work and gets Orlando to agree to visit every day, pretending to woo him (her) to prove it.

Rosalind/Ganymede, pleased at this outcome, says Orlando must call her/him Rosalind from now on, which is so very fitting and so very, very weird at the same time.

As You Like It: Act 3, Scene 2 Translation

A side-by-side translation of Act 3, Scene 2 of As You Like It from the original Shakespeare into modern English.

Original Text

Translated Text

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