Is’t possible that on so little acquaintance you should like her? That

but seeing, you should love her? And loving woo? And wooing, she should

grant? And will you persever to enjoy her?

Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty of her, the

small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting. But

say with me, I love Aliena; say with her that she loves me; consent

with both that we may enjoy each other. It shall be to your good, for

my father’s house and all the revenue that was old Sir Rowland’s will I

estate upon you, and here live and die a shepherd.

You have my consent. Let your wedding be tomorrow. Thither will I

invite the Duke and all’s contented followers. Go you and prepare

Aliena; for, look you, here comes my Rosalind.

God save you, brother.

And you, fair sister.

O my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a

scarf!

It is 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 counterfeited to swoon when he showed

me your handkercher?

Ay, and greater wonders than that.

O, I know where you are. Nay, ’tis true. There was never anything so

sudden but the fight of two rams, and Caesar’s thrasonical 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 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 O, 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.

I will weary you then no longer with idle talking. Know of me then—for

now I speak to some purpose—that I know you are a gentleman of good

conceit. I speak not this that you should bear a good opinion of my

knowledge, insomuch I say I know you are. Neither do I labour 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 Aliena shall you marry her. I

know into what straits of fortune she is driven and it is not

impossible to me, if it appear not inconvenient to you, to set her

before your eyes tomorrow, human as she is, and without any danger.

Speak’st 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, and to Rosalind, if you will.

Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of hers.

Youth, you have done me much ungentleness

To show the letter that I writ to you.

I care not if I have; it is my study

To seem despiteful and ungentle to you.

You are there followed by a faithful shepherd.

Look upon him, love him; he worships you.

Good shepherd, tell this youth what ’tis to love.

It is to be all made of sighs 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.

[_To Rosalind_.] If this be so, why blame you me to love you?

[_To Phoebe_.] If this be so, why blame you me to love you?

If this be so, why blame you me to love you?

Why do you speak too, “Why blame you me to love you?”

To her that is not here, nor doth not hear.

Pray you, no more of this, ’tis like the howling of Irish wolves

against the moon.

[_to Silvius_.] 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 satisfied man, and you

shall be married tomorrow.

[_to Silvius_.] I will content you, if what pleases you contents you,

and you shall be married tomorrow.

[_to Orlando_.] As you love Rosalind, meet.

[_to Silvius_.] As you love Phoebe, meet.—And as I love no woman, I’ll

meet. So fare you well. I have left you commands.

I’ll not fail, if I live.

Nor I.

Nor I.