As you like it Monologue

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Think not I love him, though I ask for him;

Think not I love him, though I ask for him;

’Tis but a peevish boy; yet he talks well.

’Tis but a peevish boy; yet he talks well.

But what care I for words? Yet words do well

But what care I for words? Yet words do well

When he that speaks them pleases those that hear.

When he that speaks them pleases those that hear.

It is a pretty youth. Not very pretty.

It is a pretty youth. Not very pretty.

But sure he’s proud. And yet his pride becomes him.

But sure he’s proud. And yet his pride becomes him.

He’ll make a proper man. The best thing in him

He’ll make a proper man. The best thing in him

He is not very tall. Yet for his years he’s tall.

He is not very tall. Yet for his years he’s tall.

His leg is but so so. And yet ’tis well.

His leg is but so so. And yet ’tis well.

There was a pretty redness in his lip,

There was a pretty redness in his lip,

A little riper and more lust red

A little riper and more lust red

Than that mixed in his cheek.

Than that mixed in his cheek.

There be some women, Silvius, had they marked him

There be some women, Silvius, had they marked him

In parcels as I did, would have gone near

In parcels as I did, would have gone near

To fall in love with him; but, for my part,

To fall in love with him; but, for my part,

I love him not nor hate him not.

I love him not nor hate him not.

And yet I have more cause to hate him than to love him;

And yet I have more cause to hate him than to love him;

For what had he to do to chide at me?

For what had he to do to chide at me?

He said mine eyes were black and my hair black;

He said mine eyes were black and my hair black;

And, now I am rememb’red, scorned at me.

And, now I am rememb’red, scorned at me.

I marvel why I answered not again.

I marvel why I answered not again.

I’ll write to him a very taunting letter,

I’ll write to him a very taunting letter,

And thou shalt bear it. Wilt thou, Silvius?