Original subtitles

My lord.

No!

No! No! No!

My lord! My lord!

Sir. Sir. Sir.

-What's the news? -The old duke is banished...

...by his younger brother, the new duke.

So where will the old duke live?

They say he's already in the Forest of Arden.

Come on.

I pray thee, Rosalind...

...sweet my coz...

...be merry.

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 banished father.

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 will render thee again in affection.

By mine honor I will.

And when I break that oath, let me turn monster.

Therefore, my sweet Rose...

...my dear Rose...

...be merry.

What shall be our sport, then?

How now, wit, whither wander you?

Mistress, you must come away to your father.

-Were you made the messenger? -No, by mine honor.

But I was bid to come for you.

Monsieur Le Beau. What's the news?

I will tell you the beginning, and if it please Your Ladyships...

...you may see the end, for the best is yet to do.

-What make you here? -Nothing.

I am not taught to make anything.

-Know you where you are, sir? -Oh, sir, very well.

-Know you before whom, sir? -Aye.

Better than him I am before knows me.

I know you are my eldest brother, and in the gentle condition of blood...

...you should so know me.

The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first-born.

But the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there 20 brothers betwixt us.

Sweet masters, be patient.

Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.

-Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? -I am no villain!

I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys.

Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat...

...till this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so.

For your father's remembrance, be at accord.

Let me go, I say!

My father charged you in his will to give me good education.

You have trained me like a peasant...

...obscuring and hiding from me all gentlemanlike 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 poor allottery my father left me by testament.

-With that I will go buy my fortunes. -And what wilt thou do?

Beg when that is spent?

Well, sir, get you in.

l will not long be troubled with you. You shall have some part of your will.

Get you with him, you old dog!

Is ''old dog'' my reward?

Most true, l have lost my teeth in your service.

God be with my old master.

He would not have spoke such a word.

You wrestle before the new duke?

Marry, sir...

...and we came to acquaint you with a matter.

He is given, sir, secretly to understand that your younger brother, Orlando...

...hath a disposition to come in against him to try a fall.

Your brother is but young and tender.

And for your love...

...Charles would be loath to foil him.

l tell thee, Charles...

...it is the stubbornest young fellow.

Full of ambition.

A secret and a villainous contriver against me...

...his natural brother.

Therefore...

...use thy discretion.

For he will practice against thee by poison...

...entrap thee by some treacherous device...

...and never leave till he hath taken thy life.

l am heartily glad we came hither to you.

He'll give him his payment.

God keep your worship.

Farewell, good Charles.

l hope l shall see an end of him.

For my soul, yet l know not why...

...hates nothing more than he.

Yet...

...he's gentle.

Never schooled, and yet learned.

Full of noble device.

And so much in the heart of my own people...

...who best know him...

...that l am altogether misprized.

But...

...it shall not be so long.

This wrestler...

...shall clear all.

Shall we see this wrestling, cousin?

You must if you stay here.

They are ready.

How now, daughter and cousin?

Are you crept hither to see the wrestling?

Aye, my liege, so please you give us leave.

You will take little delight in it, l can tell you.

There is such odds in the man.

In pity of the challenger's youth, l would fain dissuade him.

But he will not be entreated.

Speak to him, ladies. See if you can move him.

Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler?

Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years.

We pray you, for your own sake...

...to embrace your safety and give over this attempt.

Do, young sir. Your reputation shall not therefore be misprized.

We will make it our suit to the duke that the wrestling might not go forward.

l beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts...

...wherein l confess me much guilty to deny so fair and excellent ladies anything.

But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes...

...go with me to my trial.

Wherein, if l be foiled...

...there is but one shamed that was never gracious.

lf killed, but one dead that is willing to be so.

l shall do my friends no wrong, for l have none to lament me.

The world no injury, for in it l have nothing.

Only in the world l fill up a place...

...which may be better supplied when l have made it empty.

The little strength that l have, l would it were with you.

And mine, to eke out hers.

Fare you well.

Come. Where is this young gallant...

...that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth?

Ready, sir.

You shall try but one fall.

Now Hercules be thy speed, young man.

You should not have mocked me.

Very excellent, young man.

No more!

No more.

-How dost thou, Charles? -He cannot speak, my lord.

Bear him away.

-What is thy name, young man? -Orlando, my liege.

The youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys.

l would thou hadst been son to some man else.

The world esteemed thy father honorable...

...but l did find him still mine enemy.

Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this deed...

...hadst thou descended from another house.

My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul...

...and all the world was of my father's mind.

My father's rough and envious disposition sticks me at heart.

Sir, you have well deserved.

Wear this necklace for me, one out of suits with fortune...

...that could give more, but that her hand...

...lacks means.

-Can l not say ''l thank you''? -Did you call?

Sir.

You have wrestled well.

And overthrown more than your enemies.

Will you go, coz?

O poor Orlando.

Thou art overthrown.

Good sir, l do in friendship counsel you to leave this place.

Albeit you have deserved high commendation, true applause and love.

Thank you, sir. Pray you, tell me this:

Which of the two was daughter of the duke that was at the wrestling?

Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners.

But yet indeed the shorter is his daughter.

The other is daughter to the banished duke...

...and here detained by her usurping uncle to keep his daughter company...

...whose loves are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.

l can tell you that of late...

...this duke hath taken displeasure against his gentle niece...

...grounded upon no other argument...

...but that the people praise her for her virtues...

...and pity her for her good father's sake.

And on my life, his malice against the lady will suddenly break forth.

Sir, hereafter, in a better world than this...

...l shall desire more love and knowledge of you.

l rest much bounden to you. Fare you well.

Thus must l from the smoke into the smother...

...from tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother.

But heavenly...

...Rosalind.

Why, Rosalind.

Cupid have mercy, not a word?

-Not one to throw at a dog. -But is all this for your father?

No. Some of it is for my child's father.

Let us talk in good earnest.

Is it possible on such a sudden...

...you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son?

The duke my father loved his father dearly.

Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly?

Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste, and get you from our court.

-Me, uncle? -You, cousin.

Within these 1 0 days...

...if that thou beest found so near our public court as 20 miles...

...thou diest for it.

l do beseech Your Grace...

...let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me.

Never so much as in a thought unborn did l offend Your Highness.

Let it suffice thee that l trust thee not.

Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor.

Thou art thy father's daughter. There's enough.

Dear sovereign, hear me speak.

Aye, Celia, we stayed her for your sake...

...else had she with her father ranged along.

She is too subtle for thee.

And her smoothness, her very silence...

...and her patience speak to the people and they pity her.

Thou art a fool. She robs thee of thy name.

And thou will show more bright and seem more virtuous when she is gone.

Then open not thy lips.

Firm and irrevocable is my doom...

...which l have passed upon her.

She is banished.

Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege.

l cannot live out of her company.

You are a fool.

You.

Niece, provide yourself.

lf you outstay the time...

...upon mine honor, and in the greatness of my word...

...you die.

Who's there?

O my sweet master.

O you memory of old Sir Rowland.

Why, what make you here?

Your brother-- No. No brother, yet the son--

Yet not the son. l will not call him son.

--he's heard your praises...

...and this night he means to burn this stable where you used to lie...

...and you within it.

Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?

No matter whither, so you stay not here.

Yet this l will not do, do how l can.

l rather will submit me to the malice of a diverted blood and bloody brother!

But do not so.

l have 500 crowns.

The thrifty hire l saved under your father.

All this l give you. Let me be your servant.

Though l look old, yet l'm strong and lusty.

l'll do the service of a younger man.

O good old man.

Thou art not for the fashion of these times...

...where none will sweat but for promotion.

But come thy ways. We'll go along together.

And l will follow thee to the last gasp...

...with truth and loyalty.

From 1 7 years till now...

...almost fourscore, here lived l...

...but now live here no more.

At 1 7, many their fortunes seek.

But at fourscore...

...it is too late a week.

Yet fortune cannot recompense me better than to die well...

...and not my master's debtor.

O my poor Rosalind...

...whither wilt thou go?

Prithee, be cheerful.

Know'st thou not the duke hath banished me, his daughter?

-That he hath not. -No? Hath not?

Rosalind lacks then the love which teaches thee that thou and l am one.

Shall we be sundered?

Shall we part, sweet girl?

No. Let my father seek another heir.

Therefore, devise with me how we may fly.

Whither to go and what to bear with us.

And do not seek to take your change upon you...

...to bear your griefs yourself and leave me out.

For by this heaven...

...now at our sorrows pale, say what thou canst.

-l'll go along with thee. -Why, whither shall we go?

To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden.

Alas, what danger will it be to us...

...maids as we are, to travel forth so far?

l'll put myself in poor and mean attire...

...and with a kind of umber smirch my face.

The like do you.

So shall we pass along and never stir assailants.

Were it not better...

...because that l am more than common tall...

...that l did suit me all points like a man?

What shall l call thee when thou art a man?

l'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page.

And therefore look you call me Ganymede.

But what will you be called?

Something that hath a reference to my state.

No longer Celia...

...but Aliena.

But cousin, what if we assayed to steal the clownish fool...

...out of your father's court?

Would he not be a comfort to our travel?

He'll go along o'er the wide world with me.

Let's away.

Godspeed our flight.

Now go we in content...

...to liberty and not to banishment.

Well, this is the Forest of Arden.

Now am I in Arden, the more fool I.

When I was at home, I was in a better place.

Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile...

...hath not old custom made this life more sweet...

...than that of painted pomp?

Are not these woods more free from peril than the envious court?

Here feel we not the penalty of Adam, the seasons' difference...

...as the icy fang and churlish chiding of the winter's wind...

...which when it bites and blows upon my body even till l shrink with cold...

...l smile and say:

''This is no flattery.

These are counselors...

...that feelingly persuade me what l am.''

Sweet are the uses of adversity...

...which like the toad, ugly and venomous...

...wears yet a precious jewel in his head.

And this our life, exempt from public haunt...

...finds tongues in trees...

...books in the running brooks...

...sermons in stones...

...and good...

...in everything.

l would not change it.

Come, shall we go and kill us venison?

Jaques.

And yet it irks me...

...the poor dappled fools...

...being native burghers of this desert city...

...should in their own confines with forked heads...

...have their round haunches gored.

Indeed, my lord.

The melancholy Jaques grieves at that...

...and in that kind swears you do more usurp...

...than doth your brother that hath banished you.

Can it be possible...

...that no man saw them?

My lord, the roynish clown...

...at whom so oft Your Grace was wont to laugh...

...is also missing.

Hisperia, the princess' gentlewoman...

...confesses that she secretly o'erheard your daughter and her cousin...

...much commend the parts and graces of the wrestler...

...that did but lately foil the sinewy Charles.

And she believes, wherever they are gone...

...that youth is surely in their company.

Send to his brother.

Fetch that gallant hither.

l'll make him find him.

Do this suddenly!

And let not search and inquisition quail to bring again these foolish runaways!

O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits.

l care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.

l could find it in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel...

...and to cry like a woman.

But l must comfort the weaker vessel...

...therefore courage, good Aliena.

l pray you bear with me. l cannot go no further.

For my part, l'd rather bear with you than bear you.

That is the way to make her scorn you still.

O Corin, that thou knew'st how l do love her.

l partly guess, for l have loved ere now.

No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess.

Though in thy youth...

...thou wast as true a lover as ever sighed upon a midnight pillow.

But if thy love were ever like to mine...

...as sure l think did never man love so...

...how many actions most ridiculous hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?

Into a thousand that l have forgotten.

Then thou didst never love so heartily.

lf thou rememb'rest not the slightest folly that ever love did make thee run into...

...thou hast not loved.

Or if thou hast not sat as l do now...

...wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, thou hast not loved.

Or if thou hast not broke from company abruptly...

...as my passion now makes me...

...thou hast not loved!

O Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe!

Alas, poor shepherd, searching of thy wound...

...l have by hard adventure found mine own.

And l mine.

l remember when l was in love.

We that are true lovers run into strange capers.

But as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.

Thou speak'st wiser than thou art ware of.

Nay, l shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till l break my shins against it.

Jove. Jove, this shepherd's passion is much upon my fashion.

And mine, though it grows something stale with me.

l pray you.

One of you question yond man, if he for gold will give us any food.

l faint almost to death.

-Holla, you, clown. -Peaceful. He's not thy kinsman.

-Who calls? -Your betters, sir.

-Else are they very wretched. -Peace, l say.

-Good even to you, friend. -And to you, gentle sir.

And to you all.

l prithee, shepherd...

...if that love or gold can in this desert place buy entertainment...

...bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed.

Here's a young maid with travel much oppressed and faints for succor.

Fair sir, l pity her and wish for her sake more than for mine own...

...my fortunes were more able to relieve her.

But l am shepherd to another man...

...and do not shear the fleeces that l graze.

My master is of churlish disposition...

...and little recks to find the way to heaven by doing deeds of hospitality.

Besides, his cote, his flocks and bounds of feed are now on sale.

And at our sheepcote now, by reasons of his absence...

...there's nothing that you will feed on.

But what is, come see.

l pray thee, if it stand with honesty...

...buy thou the cottage, pasture and the flock...

...and thou shalt have to pay for it of us.

And we will mend thy wages.

l like this place, and willingly could waste my time in it.

Go with me.

lf you like upon report the soil, the profit and this kind of life...

...l will your very faithful feeder be and buy it with your gold right suddenly.

More.

More. l prithee, more.

lt will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques.

l thank it. More, l prithee, more.

l can suck melancholy out of a song as a weasel sucks eggs.

More. Prithee, more.

My voice is ragged. l know l cannot please you.

l do not desire you to please me. l do desire you to sing.

Come, more, another stanza. Call you 'em stanzas?

-What you will, Monsieur Jaques. -Nay, l care not for their names.

They owe me nothing. Will you sing?

More at your request than to please myself.

Well, then if ever l thank any man, l'll thank you.

Come, warble.

The duke hath been all this day to look you.

l have been all this day to avoid him.

l'll go sleep...

...if l can.

lf l cannot...

...l'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt.

Good morrow, fool.

No, sir, call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune.

Dear master...

...l can go no further.

l die for food.

Here lie l down...

...and measure out my grave.

Farewell, kind master.

What? You look merrily.

A fool. A fool.

l met a fool in the forest.

A motley fool. A miserable world.

As l do live by food, l met a fool...

...who laid him down and basked him in the sun.

Says very wisely:

''lt is 1 0:00...

...thus we may see,'' quoth he, ''how the world wags.

'Tis but an hour ago since it was 9, and after one hour more, 'twill be 1 1 .

And so from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe...

...then from hour to hour, we rot and rot...

...and thereby hangs a tale.''

When l did hear the motley fool thus moral on the time...

...my lungs began to crow like chanticleer.

That fools should be so deep contemplative.

And l did laugh sans intermission.

-What fool is this? -O worthy fool.

One that hath been a courtier, and says:

''lf ladies be but young and fair, they have the gift to know it.''

And in his brain...

...which is as dry as the remainder biscuit after a voyage...

...he hath strange places crammed with observation...

...for which he vents in mangled forms.

O, that l were a fool!

l am ambitious for a motley coat.

Thou shalt have one.

lt is my only suit, provided that you weed your better judgments of all opinion...

...that grows rank in them that l am wise.

l must have liberty withal...

...as large a charter as the wind to blow on whom l please.

For so fools have. Invest me in my motley.

Give me leave to speak my mind.

And l will through and through...

...cleanse the foul body of the infected world...

...if they will patiently receive my medicine.

Which is he that killed the deer?

No deer.

Forbear and eat no more!

Why, l have ate none yet.

-Nor shalt not till necessity be served. -Of what kind should this cock come of?

Art thou thus boldened, man, by thy distress...

...or else a rude despiser of good manners...

...that in civility thou seem'st so empty?

You touched my vein at first.

But forbear, l say, he dies that touches any of this fruit...

...till l and my affairs are answered!

And you will not be answered with reason, l must die?

What would you have?

Your gentleness shall force...

...more than your force move us to gentleness.

-l almost die for food, and let me have it! -Sit down and feed.

And welcome to our table.

Speak you so gently?

Pardon me, l pray you.

l thought that all things had been savage here.

Let gentleness my strong enforcement be...

...in the which hope l blush and hide my sword.

Therefore...

...sit you down in gentleness.

There is an old poor man...

...who after me hath many a weary step limped in pure love.

Till he be first sufficed--

Oppressed with two weak evils, age and hunger.

--l will not touch a bit.

Go find him out, and we will nothing waste till you return.

l thank ye, and be blessed for your good comfort.

Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy.

This wide and universal theater...

...presents more woeful pageants...

...than the scene wherein we play in.

All the world's a stage...

...and all the men and women merely players.

They have their exits and their entrances.

And one man in his time plays many parts.

His acts being seven ages.

First the infant, mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.

Then the whining schoolboy...

...with his satchel and shining morning face...

...creeping like snail unwillingly to school.

And then the lover, sighing like furnace...

...with a woeful ballad made to his mistress's eyebrow.

Then the soldier, full of strange oaths...

...and bearded like the pard...

...jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel...

...seeking the bubble reputation...

...even in the cannon's mouth.

Then the justice...

...in fair round belly with good capon lined...

...with eyes severe and beard of formal cut.

Full of wise saws and modern instances.

So he plays his part.

Sixth age shifts into the lean and slippered pantaloon...

...with spectacles on nose and pouch on side.

His youthful hose, well saved...

...a world too wide for his shrunk shank.

And his big manly voice...

...turning again to a childish treble...

...pipes and whistles in his sound.

Last scene of all...

...that ends this strange, eventful history...

...is second childishness...

...and mere oblivion.

Sans teeth.

Sans eyes.

Sans taste.

Sans everything.

Welcome.

Set down your venerable burden and let him feed.

l thank you most for him.

So had you need.

l scarce can speak to thank you for myself.

Welcome. Fall to.

Give us some music, and good cousin, sing.

Be truly welcome hither.

l am the duke that loved your father.

Good old man, thou art right welcome as thy master is.

Give me your hand...

...and let me all your fortunes understand.

Not see him since?

Sir. Sir, that cannot be.

Find out thy brother wheresoe'er he is.

Seek him with candle.

Bring him dead or living.

Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine...

...worth seizure, do we seize into our hands...

...till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth...

...of what we think against thee.

l never loved my brother in my life.

More villain thou.

Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love.

And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night...

...survey with thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above...

...thy huntress's name that my full life doth sway.

O Rosalind...

...these trees shall be my books.

And in their barks, my thoughts l'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.

Rosalind!

And how like you this shepherd's life, Master 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, l like it very well.

But in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life.

Now, in respect that it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well.

But in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious.

Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd?

No more but that l know the more one sickens...

...the worse at ease he is.

And that he that wants money, means and content...

...is without three good friends.

That the property of rain is to wet and fire to burn.

That good pastures makes fat sheep.

And that a great cause of the night...

...is lack of the sun.

A natural philosopher.

Wast ever in court, shepherd?

-No, truly. -Then thou art damned.

-Nay, l hope. -No, truly.

Thou art damned like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.

For not being at court? Your reason?

Why, if thou wast never at court, thou never saw'st good manners.

And if thou never saw'st good manners, thy manners must be wicked.

And wickedness is sin.

And sin is damnation.

-Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd. -Not a whit, Touchstone.

Now, those that are good 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.

Instance, briefly. Come, instance.

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

Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat?

Sir...

...l am a true laborer.

Owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness.

l'm glad of other men's good.

Content with my harm.

The greatest of my pride is to see my ewes graze...

...and my lambs suck.

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.

From the east to western Ind No jewel is like Rosalind

Her worth being mounted on the wind 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

Sweetest nut hath sourest rind Such a nut is Rosalind

Peace, you dull fool. l found them on a tree.

Truly the tree yields bad fruit.

Come, shepherd, let us make an honorable retreat.

Audrey?

Come on.

-Know you who hath done this? -Is it a man?

And a chain that you once wore about his neck?

-Change you color? -l prithee, who?

O Lord.

-Nay, but who is it? -Is it possible?

Nay, l prithee now...

...with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is.

O wonderful.

lt is young Orlando...

...that tripped up the wrestler's heels and your heart both in an instant.

-Orlando? -Orlando.

What did he when thou saw'st him? What said he?

How looked he? Wherein went he? What 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.

l found him under a tree like a dropped acorn.

lt may be well be called Jove's tree when it drops forth such fruit.

-Give me audience, good madam. -Proceed.

There he lay, stretched along like a wounded knight.

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

Cry ''holla'' to thy tongue, l prithee. lt curvets unseasonably.

-He was furnished like a hunter. -How ominous.

He comes to kill my heart.

l would sing my song without a burden. Thou bring'st me out of tune.

Do you not know l am a woman? When l think, l must speak.

l thank you for your company.

But good faith, l had as lief have been myself alone.

And so had l. But yet, for fashion sake, l thank you too for your society.

God by you.

-Let's meet as little as we can. -l do desire we may be better strangers.

l pray you, mar no more trees with writing love songs in their barks.

l pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favoredly.

-Rosalind is your love's name? -Yes, just.

l do not like her name.

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

-What stature is she of? -Just as high as my heart.

-You are full of pretty answers. -Not so, but l answer you right.

You have a nimble wit. Will you sit down with me?

And we two will rail against our mistress the world and all our misery.

l will chide no breather in the world but myself...

...against whom l know most faults.

The worst fault you have...

...is to be in love.

'Tis a fault l will not change for your best virtue.

l am weary of you.

By my troth, l was seeking for a fool when l found you.

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

Why, there l shall see mine own figure.

-Adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy. -Farewell, good Signor Love.

l will speak to him like a saucy lackey...

...and under that habit play the knave with him.

-Do you hear, forester? -Very well. What would you?

l pray you, what is't o'clock?

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

Then there's 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!

-Where dwell you, pretty youth? -With this shepherdess, my sister.

Here in the skirts of the forest like fringe upon a petticoat.

Are you native of this place?

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

l've been told so of many.

But indeed an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak...

...who was in his youth an inland man.

One that knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love.

l have heard him read many lectures against it.

And l thank God l am not a woman...

...to be touched with so many giddy offenses...

...as he hath generally taxed their whole sex withal.

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

There were none principal.

They were all like one another as halfpence are.

Every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow fault came to match it.

For l prithee, recount some of them.

No. l will not cast away my physic...

...but on those that are sick.

There is a man 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.

lf l could meet that fancy monger, l would give him some good counsel...

...for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him.

l am he that is so love-shaked.

There is none of my uncle's marks upon you.

He taught me how to know a man in love...

...in which cage of rushes l am sure you are not prisoner.

What were his marks?

A lean cheek, which you have not.

A blue eye and sunken, which you have not.

An unquestionable spirit, which you have not.

Then your hose should 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 the lover of any other.

Fair youth, l would l could make thee believe l love.

Me believe it?

Me believe it?

You may as soon make her that you love believe it.

l swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind...

...l am that he, that unfortunate he.

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

Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.

Love is merely a madness...

...and, l 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 ordinary that the whippers are in love too.

Yet l profess curing it by counsel.

-Did you ever cure any so? -Yes. One.

And in this manner.

He was to imagine me his love, his mistress...

...and l set him every day to woo me.

At which time would l, being but a moonish youth...

...grieve, be effeminate...

...changeable, longing and liking, proud...

...fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant...

...full of tears, full of smiles...