ROSALIND

As You Like It, Act 3, Scene 5, 34-64
Arden 3 | Juliet Dusinberre, ed. | London: Bloomsbury, 2006 | 278-280

“And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother…”
(29 lines)

Speech
Arden 3 | 2006

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty –
As by my faith I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed –  [40]
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of Nature’s sale-work. ’Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes too!  [45]
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
’Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her  [50]
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. ’Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favoured children.
’Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,  [55]
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees,
And thank heaven fasting for a good man’s love.
For I must tell you friendly in your ear:  [60]
Sell when you can, you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

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Words and Pronunciation +
Arden 3 | 2006

Words

Scoffer: A scornful gesture ex.teasing (Dusinberre)

Foul: the opposite of fair old looking (Shakespeare Words)

Cry: To beg in distain (Dusinberre)

Heaven fasting: to express penitence, show remorse (Dusinberre)

Lineaments: A characteristic or attribute (Dusinberre)

Properer: better, finer man (Schmidt)

Foggy South: Warm most wind that comes from the South (Dusinberre)

Wherefore: Why (Dusinberre)

Entame: to tame or subdue (Shakespeare Words)

Bugle: Black, glassy, protuberant a tube-shaped bead (Dusinberre)

Tangle: to ensnare or trap (Shakespeare Words)

Od’s: to express God, shortened form of God (Dusinberre)

Wretched: Miserable, very somber, hateful

Exult: to rejoice or celebrate (Schmidt)

Pray: Ask of you (Schmidt)

Mistress: polite form of Miss (Dusinberre)

Nature’s Sale Work: the cheap goods nature displays for the taking ex.bruised apple (low value) ( Dusinberre)

Cheek of Cream: peaches and cream complexion, cool under toned skin (Dusinberre)

Glass: Referring to a mirror (Dusinberre)

What though: Even though (Dusinberre)

Markets: Marketable, dateable woman (Dusinberre)

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Pronunciation +

‘Od’s: (line 44) oddz; sounds exactly how it looks; a contraction of God save.

lineaments: (line 57) lin-ee-ah-mints (OED), but possibly elided to: lin-ah-mints or lin-ee-mints to make the line scan more smoothly

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Translation
No Fear Shakespeare

ROSALIND
(coming forward, speaking as Ganymede) And why, please tell me? Is your mother a goddess that you would insult a wretched man, and exult over the injury you’ve caused him, all at the same time? You’re not beautiful—really, you’re not so pretty that you could go to bed with the lights on—so why must you act so proud and pitiless? Wait a minute, what’s going on? Why are you looking at me like that? I don’t see anything in you but nature’s usual handiwork.—Oh, for God’s sake, I think she also wants me to fall in love with her. No, proud woman, don’t hope for that. Not even your black eyebrows, your silky black hair, your beady black eyeballs, or your yellowish-white complexion can make me worship you. You foolish shepherd: why are you following her, raining tears and puffing hot air like a foggy south wind? You are a thousand times better than she. It’s fools like you who, marrying badly, fill the world with ugly children. It’s not her mirror but you who insists she’s beautiful. The image of herself that she gets from you is better than her actual features. But mistress, know yourself. Get down on your knees and thank heaven for sending you such a good man. I’m telling you, as a friend, that you should sell while the market’s good—you’re not going to have many more buyers. Ask this man’s forgiveness, love him, and accept his offer. You’re already ugly, don’t make matters worse by being scornful, too. So take her, shepherd, and God bless you.

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Assonance
Arden 3 | 2006

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty –
As by my faith I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed –  [40]
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of Nature’s sale-work. ’Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes too!  [45]
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
’Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her  [50]
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. ’Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favoured children.
’Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,  [55]
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees,
And thank heaven fasting for a good man’s love.
For I must tell you friendly in your ear:  [60]
Sell when you can, you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

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Pronunciation +

shamest: (line 23) Q2–3; sham’st Q4, F; not in Q1 (Weis)

Jesu: (line 29) jeez-yoo or jee-zoo; jayz-yoo or jay-zoo

you: (line 29) The more formal pronoun is used consistently by Nurse when addressing Juliet, while the 13-year-old uses the familiar thou, thee, thy to her servant, in conformity with the etiquette of the day in which social class overrides age. (Weis)

marry: (line 62) mah-ree (UK); meh-ree (US) (OED)

trow: (line 62) tr-ah-oo (UK); tr-oh (US) (OED)

hie: (line 68) hah-ee

wanton: (line 70) want-en or want-in

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Alliteration
Arden 3 | 2006

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty –
As by my faith I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed –  [40]
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of Nature’s sale-work. ’Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes too!  [45]
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
’Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her  [50]
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. ’Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favoured children.
’Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,  [55]
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees,
And thank heaven fasting for a good man’s love.
For I must tell you friendly in your ear:  [60]
Sell when you can, you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

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Consonance
Arden 3 | 2006

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty –
As by my faith I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed –  [40]
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of Nature’s sale-work. ’Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes too!  [45]
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
’Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her  [50]
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. ’Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favoured children.
’Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,  [55]
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees,
And thank heaven fasting for a good man’s love.
For I must tell you friendly in your ear:  [60]
Sell when you can, you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

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Thoughts
Arden 3 | 2006

ROSALIND
1. And why, I pray you? 2. Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once
Over the wretched? 3. What though you have no beauty –
As by my faith I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed –  [40]
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
4. Why, what means this? 5. Why do you look on me?
6. I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of Nature’s sale-work. 7. ’Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes too!  [45]
8. No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
9. ’Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
10. You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her  [50]
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
11. You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. 12. ’Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favoured children.
13. ’Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,  [55]
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
14. But, mistress, know yourself; 14b. down on your knees,
And thank heaven fasting for a good man’s love.
15. For I must tell you friendly in your ear:  [60]
15b.Sell when you can, you are not for all markets.
16. Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
16b. Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.
17. So take her to thee, shepherd. 18. Fare you well.

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Thought Count
Arden 3 | 2012

Rosalind

Short: 10 | 16
Medium: 8 | 5
Long: 0
Total: 18 | 21

Complex: 3 (2,2,2)

End-stopped: 12 | 14
Mid-line: 6 | 7

Periods: 11
Exclamations: 1
Questions: 6
Unfinished: 0

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Rhythm
Arden 3 | 2006

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother, (11w)
That you insult, exult, and all at once (10R)
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty – (12W epic)
As by my faith I see no more in you (10R)
Than without candle may go dark to bed –  [40](10R)
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless? (10R)
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? (10)
I see no more in you than in the ordinary (12 | 13W)
Of Nature’s sale-work. ’Od’s my little life, (10R)
I think she means to tangle my eyes too!  [45](10R)
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it. (10R | 10)
’Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair, (10R | 10 )
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream, (10R)
That can entame my spirits to your worship. (11W)
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her (12) [50]
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain? (10)
You are a thousand times a properer man (10| 11)
Than she a woman. ’Tis such fools as you (10R)
That makes the world full of ill-favoured children. (11w)
’Tis not her glass but you that flatters her, [55](10R)
And out of you she sees herself more proper (11W)
Than any of her lineaments can show her. (11W | 12W)
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees, (10)
And thank heaven fasting for a good man’s love. (10R | 11)
For I must tell you friendly in your ear:[60](10R)
Sell when you can, you are not for all markets. (11w | 10W)
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer; (11w)
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. (11w)
So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well. (10R)

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Pacing
Arden 3 | 2006

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty –
As by my faith I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed –  [40]
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of Nature’s sale-work. ’Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes too!  [45]
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
’Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her  [50]
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. ’Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favoured children.
’Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,  [55]
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees,
And thank heaven fasting for a good man’s love.
For I must tell you friendly in your ear:  [60]
Sell when you can, you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

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Beats
Arden 3 | 2006

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty –
As by my faith I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed –  [40]
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?

 

Discovery


Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?

 

Discovery


I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of Nature’s sale-work. ’Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes too!  [45]

 

Discovery


No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
’Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.

Decision


You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her  [50]
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. ’Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favoured children.
’Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,  [55]
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.

Decision


But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees,
And thank heaven fasting for a good man’s love.
For I must tell you friendly in your ear:  [60]
Sell when you can, you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.

Decision


So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

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Pronunciation +

shamest: (line 23) Q2–3; sham’st Q4, F; not in Q1 (Weis)

Jesu: (line 29) jeez-yoo or jee-zoo; jayz-yoo or jay-zoo

you: (line 29) The more formal pronoun is used consistently by Nurse when addressing Juliet, while the 13-year-old uses the familiar thou, thee, thy to her servant, in conformity with the etiquette of the day in which social class overrides age. (Weis)

marry: (line 62) mah-ree (UK); meh-ree (US) (OED)

trow: (line 62) tr-ah-oo (UK); tr-oh (US) (OED)

hie: (line 68) hah-ee

wanton: (line 70) want-en or want-in

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Rhetoric
Arden 3 | 2006

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty –
As by my faith I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed –  [40]
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of Nature’s sale-work. ’Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes too!  [45]
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
’Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her  [50]
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. ’Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favoured children.
’Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,  [55]
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees,
And thank heaven fasting for a good man’s love.
For I must tell you friendly in your ear:  [60]
Sell when you can, you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

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Scene
Arden 3 | 2006

3.5

Enter Silvius and Phoebe.

SILVIUS
Sweet Phoebe, do not scorn me, do not, Phoebe .
Say that you love me not, but say not so
In bitterness. The common executioner,
Whose heart th’accustomed sight of death makes hard,
5Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck
But first begs pardon. Will you sterner be
Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops?

Enter Rosalind [ as Ganymede ], Celia [ as Aliena ] and Corin. [ They stand aside.]

PHOEBE
I would not be thy executioner;
I fly thee for I would not injure thee.
10Thou tell’st me there is murder in mine eye.
’Tis pretty , sure, and very probable
That eyes, that are the frail’st and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers.
15Now I do frown on thee with all my heart,
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee.
Now counterfeit to swoon – why now fall down!
Or if thou canst not – O, for shame, for shame –
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.
20Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee.
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it; lean thou upon a rush,
The cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palm some moment keeps. But now mine eyes,
25Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,
Nor I am sure there is no force in eyes
That can do hurt.

SILVIUS
——————O dear Phoebe,
If ever – as that ever may be near –
30You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,
Then shall you know the wounds invisible
That love’s keen arrows make.

PHOEBE
——————————But till that time
Come not thou near me. And when that time comes,
Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not,
35As till that time I shall not pity thee.

ROSALIND [Advances.]
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty –
As by my faith I see no more in you
40Than without candle may go dark to bed –
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of Nature’s sale-work. ’Od’s my little life,
45I think she means to tangle my eyes too!
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
’Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
50You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. ’Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favoured children.
55’Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees,
And thank heaven fasting for a good man’s love.
60For I must tell you friendly in your ear:
Sell when you can, you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

PHOEBE
65Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together!
I had rather hear you chide than this man woo.

ROSALIND
He’s fallen in love with your foulness, [to Silvius ]
and she’ll fall in love with my anger. If it be so,
as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I’ll
70sauce her with bitter words.
– Why look you so upon me?

PHOEBE
For no ill will I bear you.

ROSALIND
I pray you do not fall in love with me,
For I am falser than vows made in wine.
75Besides, I like you not. ([to Silvius ]) If you will know my house,
’Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by.
Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply her hard.
Come, sister. Shepherdess, look on him better,
And be not proud. Though all the world could see,
80None could be so abused in sight as he.
Come, to our flock.(Exeunt [ Rosalind, Celia and Corin ].)

PHOEBE
Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might:
‘Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?’

SILVIUS
Sweet Phoebe –

PHOEBE
—————–Ha? – What sayst thou, Silvius?

SILVIUS
85Sweet Phoebe, pity me.

PHOEBE
Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.

SILVIUS
Wherever sorrow is, relief would be.
If you do sorrow at my grief in love,
By giving love your sorrow and my grief
90Were both extermined.

PHOEBE
Thou hast my love, is not that neighbourly?

SILVIUS
I would have you.

PHOEBE
——————Why, that were covetousness!
Silvius, the time was that I hated thee –
And yet it is not that I bear thee love –
95But since that thou canst talk of love so well,
Thy company, which erst was irksome to me,
I will endure, and I’ll employ thee too.
But do not look for further recompense
Than thine own gladness that thou art employed.

SILVIUS
100So holy and so perfect is my love,
And I in such a poverty of grace,
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop
To glean the broken ears after the man
That the main harvest reaps. Loose now and then
105A scattered smile, and that I’ll live upon.

PHOEBE
Knowst thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile?

SILVIUS
Not very well, but I have met him oft,
And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds
That the old Carlot once was master of.

PHOEBE
110Think not I love him though I ask for him.
’Tis but a peevish boy – yet he talks well.
But what care I for words? Yet words do well
When he that speaks them pleases those that hear.
It is a pretty youth – not very pretty –
115But sure he’s proud, and yet his pride becomes him.
He’ll make a proper man. The best thing in him
Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue
Did make offence, his eye did heal it up.
He is not very tall, yet for his years he’s tall;
120His leg is but so-so, and yet ’tis well.
There was a pretty redness in his lip,
A little riper and more lusty red
Than that mixed in his cheek. ’Twas just the difference
Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask.
125There be some women, Silvius, had they marked him
In parcels as I did, would have gone near
To fall in love with him; but for my part
I love him not – nor hate him not. And yet
I have more cause to hate him than to love him,
130For what had he to do to chide at me?
He said mine eyes were black and my hair black,
And now I am remembered, scorned at me.
I marvel why I answered not again.
But that’s all one – omittance is no quittance.
135I’ll write to him a very taunting letter
And thou shalt bear it. Wilt thou, Silvius?

SILVIUS
Phoebe, with all my heart.

PHOEBE
I’ll write it straight.
The matter’s in my head and in my heart;
140I will be bitter with him and passing short.
Go with me, Silvius.

(Exeunt.)

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pp.276-286

Pronunciation +

shamest: (line 23) Q2–3; sham’st Q4, F; not in Q1 (Weis)

Jesu: (line 29) jeez-yoo or jee-zoo; jayz-yoo or jay-zoo

you: (line 29) The more formal pronoun is used consistently by Nurse when addressing Juliet, while the 13-year-old uses the familiar thou, thee, thy to her servant, in conformity with the etiquette of the day in which social class overrides age. (Weis)

marry: (line 62) mah-ree (UK); meh-ree (US) (OED)

trow: (line 62) tr-ah-oo (UK); tr-oh (US) (OED)

hie: (line 68) hah-ee

wanton: (line 70) want-en or want-in

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Given Circumstances
Arden 3 | 2006

Enter Nurse [and Peter].

O God, she comes. O honey Nurse, what news?
Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.

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As You Like It, Act 3, Scene 5, 137-175
Oxford | 1993

Source
Oxford | Brissenden, Alan. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993.

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once,
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,–
As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed–
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of nature’s sale-work.–‘Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes, too.
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
‘Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You, foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. ‘Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favour’d children.
‘Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love;
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can. you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.–
So, take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

Thought Counts
Oxford | 1993

Thoughts |TBD

Short: 3
Medium: 4
Long: 2
Total: 9

End-stopped: 8
Mid-line: 1

Periods: 7
Exclamations: 1
Questions: 1
Unfinished: 0

Objective

 

Helena needs the audience to

Journey
Oxford | 1993.

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once,
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,–
As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed–
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of nature’s sale-work.–‘Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes, too.
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
‘Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You, foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. ‘Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favour’d children.
‘Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love;
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can. you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.–
So, take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

Thought Counts
Oxford | 1993

Thoughts |TBD

Short: 11
Medium: 7
Long: 0
Total: 18

End-stopped:11
Mid-line: 7

Periods: 12
Exclamations: 0
Questions: 6
Unfinished: 0

Objective

 

Helena needs the audience to

Thoughts
Oxford | 1993

ROSALIND
1. And why, I pray you? 2. Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once,
Over the wretched? 3. What though you have no beauty,–
As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed–
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
4. Why, what means this? 5. Why do you look on me?
6. I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of nature’s sale-work.– 7.‘Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes, too.
8. No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
9. ‘Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
10. You, foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
11. You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. 12. ‘Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favour’d children.
13. ‘Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
14. But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love;
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can. 15. You are not for all markets.
16. Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.–
17. So, take her to thee, shepherd. 18. Fare you well.

Line Analysis
Oxford | 1993

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,                11w
That you insult, exult, and all at once,                                 10R | 10  (that, insult, exult)
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,–     12w
As, by my faith, I see no more in you                                      10R
Than without candle may go dark to bed–                            10R
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?                             10R | 10 (must)
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?                   10 (why)
I see no more in you than in the ordinary                                  12-13w
Of nature’s sale-work.–‘Od’s my little life,                               10R
I think she means to tangle my eyes, too.                                10R
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.                               10R
‘Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,                            10R
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,                         10R
That can entame my spirits to your worship.                           10w | 11w (spir’tsb)
You, foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her                12  (you)
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?                           10 (puffing)
You are a thousand times a properer man                                10 | 11 (you)
Than she a woman. ‘Tis such fools as you                                10 (such)
That makes the world full of ill-favour’d children.                      11 (full, ill)
‘Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,                                 10R
And out of you she sees herself more proper                              11w
Than any of her lineaments can show her.                                    11w | 12w
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees                     10 (down)
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love;                    10 | 11 (heavenheav’n, fasting)
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,                                           10R
Sell when you can. You are not for all markets.                           11w
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;                                   11w (cry)
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.–                                 11w (be’ng) 15 (foul)
So, take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.                                 10R

Pacing and Tempo
Oxford | 1993

ROSALIND
And why, ^ I pray you? ^ Who might be your mother, –>
That you insult, ^ exult, ^ and all at once, –>
Over the wretched? ^ What though you have no beauty,–
As, by my faith, I see no more in you  –>       slowly
Than without candle may go dark to bed–
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?   pause
Why, what means this? ^ Why do you look on me?  pause, slowly
I see no more in you than in the ordinary  –>
Of natures sale-work.–^ ‘Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes, too.         pause
No, ^ faith, ^ proud mistress, ^ hope not after it.       pause
‘Tis not your inky brows, ^ your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, ^ nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.  slowly
You, ^ foolish shepherd, ^ wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy south, ^ puffing with wind and rain?     pause
You are a thousand times a properer man –>
Than she a woman. ^ ‘Tis such fools as you –>  | slowly
That makes the world full of ill-favour’d children.   pause, slowly (hts)
‘Tis not her glass ^ but you that flatters her,
And out of you ^ she sees herself more proper –>
Than any of her lineaments can show her.    pause
But, ^ mistress, ^ know yourself; ^ down on your knees   | slowly
And thank heaven, ^ fasting, ^ for a good man’s love;
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can. ^ You are not for all markets.   slowly | pause
Cry the man mercy, ^ love him, ^ take his offer;   | slowly
Foul is most foul, ^ being foul to be a scoffer.–     slowly | pause
So, ^ take her to thee, ^ shepherd. ^ Fare you well.

Alliteration
Oxford | 1993

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once,
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,–
As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed–
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of nature’s sale-work.–‘Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes, too.
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
‘Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You, foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. ‘Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favour’d children.
‘Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love;
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can. you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.–
So, take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

Assonance & Rhyme
Oxford | 1993

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once,
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,–
As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed–
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of nature’s sale-work.–‘Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes, too.
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
‘Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You, foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. ‘Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favour’d children.
‘Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love;
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can. you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.–
So, take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

Consonance & Onomatopoeia
Oxford | 1993

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once,
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,–
As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed–
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of nature’s sale-work.–‘Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes, too.
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
‘Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You, foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. ‘Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favour’d children.
‘Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love;
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can. you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.–
So, take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

Rhetoric
Oxford | 1993

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once,
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,–
As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed–
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of nature’s sale-work.–‘Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes, too.
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
‘Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You, foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. ‘Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favour’d children.
‘Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love;
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can. you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.–
So, take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

Before and After
Oxford | 1993

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once,
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,–
As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed–
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of nature’s sale-work.–‘Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes, too.
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
‘Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You, foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. ‘Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favour’d children.
‘Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love;
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can. you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.–
So, take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

Definitions
Oxford | 1993

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once,
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,–
As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed–
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of nature’s sale-work.–‘Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes, too.
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
‘Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You, foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. ‘Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favour’d children.
‘Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love;
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can. you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.–
So, take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

Translation
Oxford | 1993

ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once,
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,–
As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed–
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of nature’s sale-work.–‘Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes, too.
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
‘Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You, foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. ‘Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favour’d children.
‘Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love;
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can. you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.–
So, take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

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