AS YOU LIKE IT THE earliest reference to the comedy of As You Like It is found in an entry in the Stationers' Register, under the date of August 4, 1600. How much earlier the play was composed is uncertain, but no modern critic of authority places it earlier than 1598. The reference in III. v. 81, 82 to Marlowe's Hero and Leander (pub. 1598) has been taken as fixing the earlier limit, but the possibility of Shakespeare's having known the dead shepherd's" poem in manuscript somewhat weakens the argument from this passage. The same limit, however, is suggested by the absence of the title from the list in Meres's Palladis Tamia. The evidence from metre, too, indicates 1599-1600 as a probable date, and, with slight variations, there is a general agreement in this. Although the play was entered in the Stationers' Register in 1600, it does not seem to have been actually published before it appeared in the First Folio. From this edition the present text is taken, with a few modifications drawn chiefly from the later Folios and the emendations of modern editors. Stories which relate the fate of a younger brother who is deprived of his inheritance by the jealousy of a senior brother, and who nevertheless achieves great prosperity, are as old as the time of Joseph." (Skeat.) To this class belongs an anonymous Middle English poem, found in several MSS. of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, into which it has been inserted with the title, The Coke's Tale of Gamelyn. The poem is not by Chaucer, nor has it any relation to his fragmentary Cook's Tale, save in name. On the basis of this poem, Thomas Lodge composed a novel called Rosalynde, Euphues' Golden Legacie (1590), adding the female characters, and the love stories of Orlando and Silvius. Whether these are due to his own invention, or are drawn from some other source, is unknown. This novel Shakespeare in turn dramatized in As You Like It. It does not appear that Shakespeare knew the Tale of Gamelyn. Lodge's romance is a euphuistic pastoral, and, in turning it into a play, Shakespeare dropped the euphuism, but retained many of the pastoral characteristics. In retaining these, he was following not only his source, but the example of other dramatists who had recently scored successes with pastorals on the stage. The more conventional pastoral features to be detected in As You Like It are these: the shepherds and foresters, both those who are actual rustics and those who are courtiers living in retirement; the love-sick shepherd and obdurate shepherdess; the girl in the dress of a boy; the hanging or carving of verses on trees; the hunting scene and song; the figure of Hymen; and the suggested landscape of woodland, sheep-cote, and pasture. The forest life of the banished Duke, also, and his attitude towards adversity have been thought to show the influence of contemporary plays on Robin Hood. The length of time covered by the action is much shorter in the play than in the novel. Shakespeare suramarizes the whole first section of Rosalynde in Orlando's opening speech, and, greatly to the advantage of the hero's refinement, cuts out a number of rowdy incidents between his wrestling and his setting out. The wrestling, indeed, is a survival of the merely muscular hero of the Tale of Gamelyn. Oliver's change of heart, which is used by Shakespeare to reflect credit on Orlando, is in Lodge due to the elder brother's meditations in prison. In Rosalynde, the restoration of the Duke is brought about by the overthrow and death of the usurper in battle, in contrast with the dramatist's milder device of conversion, which, however unplausible, suits better the mood of the play. The chief characters are all raised to a much higher spiritual level by Shakespeare, finer motives are introduced, Rosalind is given a sense of humor, and Phebe and Silvius are made much less the conventional figures of the artificial pastoral. The characters of Jaques, Touchstone, Audrey, William, Dennis, Le Beau, Amiens, the First Lord, and Sir Oliver Martext are all added, and with them the distinctive atmosphere of the play, its philosophy, its humor, its lyric beauty, and its landscape. SCENE I. [Orchard of Oliver's house.] Enter ORLANDO and ADAM. Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion: bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou sayest, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well; and there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks [5 goldenly of his profit. For my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more properly, stays me here at home unkept; for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? [10 His horses are bred better; for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hir'd; but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the which his animals on [15 his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me his countenance seems to take from me. He lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a [20 brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude. I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it. Enter OLIVER. 27 Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile. 39 Orl. Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to such penury? Oli. Know you where you are, sir? Orl. O, sir, very well; here in your orchard. Oli. Know you before whom, sir? 45 Adam. Sweet masters, be patient; for your father's remembrance, be at accord. Oli. Let me go, I say. Orl. I will not, till I please. You shall hear me. My father charg'd you in his will to give [ me good education. You have train'd me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it; therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the [" 100 Cha. Good morrow to your worship. Oli. Good Monsieur Charles, what's the new news at the new court? Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news: that is, the old Duke is banished by his younger brother the new Duke; and three or four loving lords have put them- [105 selves into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke; therefore he gives them good leave to wander. Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke's daughter, be banished with her father? 111 Cha. O, no; for the Duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no less beloved [115 of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do. Oli. Where will the old Duke live? 119 Cha. They say he is already in the forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England. They say many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world. 125 Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Duke? Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand that your younger brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to come in [130 disguis'd against me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young and tender; and, for your love, I would be loath [135 to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come in; therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal, that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brook such disgrace well as he shall run [140 into, in that it is a thing of his own search, and altogether against my will. Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means [145 laboured to dissuade him from it, but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles, it is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against [150 me his natural brother; therefore use thy discretion. I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger. And thou wert best look to't; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on [155 thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other; for, I assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one [160 so young and so villanous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder. 164 Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment. If ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize more. And so, God keep your worship! Exit. Oli. Farewell, good Charles. 160 Now will I stir this gamester. I hope I shall see an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he 's gentle; never school'd, and yet learned; full of noble device; of all sorts enchantingly beloved; and indeed so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people, who best [175 know him, that I am altogether misprised. But it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all. Nothing remains but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about. [Exit. 180 SCENE II. [Lawn before the Duke's palace.] Enter ROSALIND and CELIA. Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a [s banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure. Cel. Herein I see thou lov'st me not with the full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle, the Duke my father, so thou hadst been still [19 with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine. So wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously temper'd as mine is to thee. 15 Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours. Cel. You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt be his heir; for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I [20 will render thee again in affection. By mine honour, I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monster. Therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. 25 Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let me see; what think you of falling in love? Cel. Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal. But love no man in good earnest, nor no further in sport neither than with safety [30 of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come off again. Ros. What shall be our sport, then? Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally. 36 Ros. I would we could do so; for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts Cel. Well said. That was laid on with a trowel. Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank, Ros. Thou losest thy old smell. - Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies. I would [115 have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of. Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning; and, if it please your ladyships, you may see the end. For the best is yet to do; and here, [190 where you are, they are coming to perform it. Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried. Le Beau. There comes an old man and his three sons, Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence. 130 Ros. With bills on their necks, "Be it known unto all men by these presents." Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the Duke's wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of [185 life in him. So he serv'd the second, and so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old man, their father, making such pitiful dole over them that all the beholders take his part with weeping. 140 Ros. Alas! Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost? Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. Charles the wrestler? 170 Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general challenger. I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth. Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years. You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength. If you saw yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your [185 judgement, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own safety, and give over this attempt. 190 Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be misprised. We will make it our suit to the Duke that the wrestling might not go forward. 194 Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts, wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial; wherein if I be foil'd, there is but one sham'd that was never gracious; if kill'd, but one dead that is willing [200 to be so. I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing. Only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty. 205 Hadst thou descended from another house. Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this? Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Roland's son, His youngest son, - and would not change that calling. To be adopted heir to Frederick. 245 Ros. My father lov'd Sir Roland as his soul, And all the world was of my father's mind. Had I before known this young man his son, I should have given him tears unto entreaties, 250 Ere he should thus have ventur'd. Cel. Gentle cousin, Let us go thank him and encourage him. My father's rough and envious disposition Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserv'd. If you do keep your promises in love But justly, as you have exceeded all promise, Your mistress shall be happy. Ros. Gentleman, 255 [Giving him a chain from her neck.] Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune, That could give more, but that her hand lacks means. Shall we go, coz? |