As You Like It quotes

but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us: I have as much of my father in me as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is nearer to his reverence.

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

Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?

What shall be our sport, then?

Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.

I would we could do so, for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women.

My father’s love is enough to honour him: enough! speak no more of him; you’ll be whipped for taxation one of these days.

The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly.

By my troth, thou sayest true; for since the little wit that fools have was silenced, the little foolery that wise men have makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau.

Why, this that I speak of.

Thus men may grow wiser every day: it is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies.

Or I, I promise thee.

Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! not a word?

Not one to throw at a dog.

No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons.

No, some of it is for my child’s father.

O, how full of briers is this working-day world!

They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery: if we walk not in the trodden paths our very petticoats will catch them.

Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor: Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.

Thou art thy father’s daughter; there’s enough.

So was I when your highness took his dukedom; So was I when your highness banish’d him: Treason is not inherited, my lord; Or, if we did derive it from our friends, What’s that to me? my father was no traitor:

So was I when your highness took his dukedom; So was I when your highness banish’d him:

Treason is not inherited, my lord;

Or, if we did derive it from our friends, What’s that to me? my father was no traitor: Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much To think my poverty is treacherous.

Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege:

I cannot live out of her company.

You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself: If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, And in the greatness of my word, you die. Exeunt Duke Frederick and Lords.

Alas, what danger will it be to us, Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!

Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

I’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.

Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of.

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

Jove, Jove! this shepherd’s passion Is much upon my fashion.

I thank it. More, I prithee, more.

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

More, I prithee, more.

My voice is ragged: I know I cannot please you.

I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to sing.

Come, more; another stanzo: call you ’em stanzos?

When I 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 I did laugh sans intermission An hour by his dial. O noble fool! A worthy fool!

Motley’s the only wear.

O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier, And says, if ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it:

I would sing my song without a burden: thou bringest me out of tune.

Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak.

Sweet, say on.

God be wi’ you: let’s meet as little as we can.

I do desire we may be better strangers.

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

I’ll tarry no longer with you: farewell, good Signior Love.

I am glad of your departure: adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy.

Exit Jaques.

I pray you, what is’t o’clock?

You should ask me what time o’ day: there’s no clock in the forest.

Then there is 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.

You should ask me what time o’ day: there’s no clock in the forest.

Then there is 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.

And why not the swift foot of Time? had not that been as proper?

By no means, sir:

Time travels in divers paces with divers persons.

I’ll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal and who he stands still withal.

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, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do:

Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.

Love is merely a madness, and, I 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 I profess curing it by counsel.

Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were to put good meat into an unclean dish.

I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul.

Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness! sluttishness may come hereafter.

O, come, let us remove:

The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.

Bring us to this sight, and you shall say I’ll prove a busy actor in their play. Exeunt.

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.

And your experience makes you sad:

I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad; and to travel for it too!

Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind!

Then in mine own person I die.

No, faith, die by attorney.

The poor world is almost six thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man died in his own person, videlicit, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains dashed out with a Grecian club;

for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont and being taken with the cramp was drowned and the foolish coroners of that age found it was “Hero of Sestos.”

But these are all lies: men have died from time to time and worms have eaten them, but not for love.

I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind, for, I protest, her frown might kill me.

Are you not good?

Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?

Come, sister, you shall be the priest and marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando. What do you say, sister?

Marry, to say she came to seek you there.

You shall never take her without her answer, unless you take her without her tongue.

O, that woman that cannot make her fault her husband’s occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool!

Why, thou sayest well. I do now remember a saying, “

The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.

” The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth; meaning thereby that grapes were made to eat and lips to open. You do love this maid?

They shall be married to-morrow, and I will bid the duke to the nuptial.

But, O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man’s eyes!

By so much the more shall I to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for.

Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind?

I can live no longer by thinking.

I will weary you then no longer with idle talking. Know of me then, for now I speak to some purpose, that I know you are a gentleman of good conceit:

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.

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.

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.

Salutation and greeting to you all!

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.

Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he’s as good at any thing and yet a fool.

Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he’s as good at any thing and yet a fool.

He uses his folly like a stalking-horse and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.

Enter Hymen, Rosalind, and Celia.