William Shakespeare: As You Like It, Act V, Scene IV
Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, Jaques, Orlando, Oliver, and Celia
I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not; As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.
Enter Rosalind, Silvius, and Phebe
Patience once more, whiles our compact is urged: You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, You will bestow her on Orlando here?
I have promised to make all this matter even. Keep you your word, O duke, to give your daughter; You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter: Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me, Or else refusing me, to wed this shepherd: Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her. If she refuse me: and from hence I go, To make these doubts all even.
Exeunt Rosalind and Celia
My lord, the first time that I ever saw him Methought he was a brother to your daughter: But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born, And hath been tutor'd in the rudiments Of many desperate studies by his uncle, Whom he reports to be a great magician, Obscured in the circle of this forest.
Enter Touchstone and Audrey
There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are coming to the ark. Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools.
Good my lord, bid him welcome: this is the motley-minded gentleman that I have so often met in the forest: he hath been a courtier, he swears.
If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation. I have trod a measure; I have flattered a lady; I have been politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy; I have undone three tailors; I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought one.
God 'ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear and to forswear: according as marriage binds and blood breaks: a poor virgin, sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own; a poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that no man else will: rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house; as your pearl in your foul oyster.
Upon a lie seven times removed:—bear your body more seeming, Audrey:—as thus, sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard: he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it was: this is called the Retort Courteous. If I sent him word again 'it was not well cut,' he would send me word, he cut it to please himself: this is called the Quip Modest. If again 'it was not well cut,' he disabled my judgment: this is called the Reply Churlish. If again 'it was not well cut,' he would answer, I spake not true: this is called the Reproof Valiant. If again 'it was not well cut,' he would say I lied: this is called the Counter-cheque Quarrelsome: and so to the Lie Circumstantial and the Lie Direct.
I durst go no further than the Lie Circumstantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie Direct; and so we measured swords and parted.
O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book; as you have books for good manners: I will name you the degrees. The first, the Retort Courteous; the second, the Quip Modest; the third, the Reply Churlish; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth, the Countercheque Quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with Circumstance; the seventh, the Lie Direct. All these you may avoid but the Lie Direct; and you may avoid that too, with an If. I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel, but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an If, as, 'If you said so, then I said so;' and they shook hands and swore brothers. Your If is the only peacemaker; much virtue in If.
He uses his folly like a stalking-horse and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.
Enter Hymen, Rosalind, and Celia
Then is there mirth in heaven, When earthly things made even Atone together. Good duke, receive thy daughter Hymen from heaven brought her, Yea, brought her hither, That thou mightst join her hand with his Whose heart within his bosom is.
To Duke Senior
To you I give myself, for I am yours.
To you I give myself, for I am yours.
I'll have no father, if you be not he: I'll have no husband, if you be not he: Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she.
Peace, ho! I bar confusion: 'Tis I must make conclusion Of these most strange events: Here's eight that must take hands To join in Hymen's bands, If truth holds true contents. You and you no cross shall part: You and you are heart in heart You to his love must accord, Or have a woman to your lord: You and you are sure together, As the winter to foul weather. Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing, Feed yourselves with questioning; That reason wonder may diminish, How thus we met, and these things finish.
Wedding is great Juno's crown: O blessed bond of board and bed! 'Tis Hymen peoples every town; High wedlock then be honoured: Honour, high honour and renown, To Hymen, god of every town!
Enter Jaques de Boys
Let me have audience for a word or two: I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, That bring these tidings to this fair assembly. Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day Men of great worth resorted to this forest, Address'd a mighty power; which were on foot, In his own conduct, purposely to take His brother here and put him to the sword: And to the skirts of this wild wood he came; Where meeting with an old religious man, After some question with him, was converted Both from his enterprise and from the world, His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother, And all their lands restored to them again That were with him exiled. This to be true, I do engage my life.
Welcome, young man; Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding: To one his lands withheld, and to the other A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. First, in this forest, let us do those ends That here were well begun and well begot: And after, every of this happy number That have endured shrewd days and nights with us Shall share the good of our returned fortune, According to the measure of their states. Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity And fall into our rustic revelry. Play, music! And you, brides and bridegrooms all, With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall.
Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly, The duke hath put on a religious life And thrown into neglect the pompous court?
To him will I : out of these convertites There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.
To Duke Senior
You to your former honour I bequeath; Your patience and your virtue well deserves it:
You to a love that your true faith doth merit:
You to your land and love and great allies:
You to a long and well-deserved bed:
And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage Is but for two months victuall'd. So, to your pleasures: I am for other than for dancing measures.
Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites, As we do trust they'll end, in true delights.