as you like it lines

i would not be thy executioner

i fly thee, for i would not injure thee

thou tell’st me there is murder in mine eye,

tis pretty, sure, and very probable,

that eyes, that are the frailst and softest things

should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers

now i do fown 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 cans’t not, o for shame, for shame

lie not,, to say mine eyes are murderers

now show the wound mine eye hath made in thtee

scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains

some scar of it, but now mine eyes

which i have darted at thee, hurt thee not;

nor, i am sure, there is not force in eyes that can do hurt

that love’s keen arrows make (Silvius)

but till that time come not thou near me

fare thee well (Rosalind)

sweet youth; i pray you chide a year together, i had rather hear you chide than this man woo

dead shepherd, now i find thy saw of might

who ever loves that loved not at first sight?

sweet phebe, pity me (silvius)

why, i am sorry for thee, gentle silvius

silvius, the time was that i hated thee;

and yet it is not that i bear thee love

but since 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 employ’d

“a scattered smile, and that i’ll live upon” (silvius)

know’st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile?

think not i love him, though i ask for him

this 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

but 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 offense, his eye did heal it up,

there 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

for what had he to do to chide at me?

i marvel why i answered not again. but that’s all one: omittance is no quittance.

i’ll write to him a very taunting letter, and thou shalt bear it

wilt thou, silvius?

i’ll write it straight

go with me, silvius

youth, you have done me much urgentleness

to show the letter that i writ you

“look upon him, love him” (rosalind)

good shepherd, tell this youth what ‘tis to love

and so am i for phebe (silvius)

and I for ganymede

“and so am i for no woman” (rosalind)

if this be so, why blame you me to love you

i’ll not fail, if i live (silvius)

Nor i

“you say you’ll marry me, if i be willing?” (rosalind)

that will i

“You’ll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd?” (rosalind)

so is the bargain

“if there be turth in sight, you are my rosalind” (orlando)

if sight and shape be true, why then, my love adieu

“even daughter, welcome in no less degree” (duke)

i will not eat my word, now thou art mine; thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine