O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits!
God, how tired I am.
I'm so tired.
so exhausted
I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.
I don't care about my spirit. If my legs weren't so sore, I'd be fine.
My spirit's fine. My legs are killing me.
my legs hurt
I could find in my heart to disgrace my man’s apparel, and to cry like
a woman, but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose
ought to show itself courageous to petticoat. Therefore, courage, good
Aliena.
I want to rip off these boy's clothes and cry like a woman, but I have to be the strong one here. That's what a man is supposed to do for a woman. So come on, Aliena—be brave.
I want to drop this disguise and have a total breakdown, but I can't. Someone has to be the strong one. That's the deal when you're dressed like a man—you don't get to cry. So come on, stay with me.
want to quit want to cry
but i'm supposed to be the strong one
so keep going
I pray you bear with me, I cannot go no further.
Please, I can't go any further.
I can't do this anymore. I have to stop.
can't go on
For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear you. Yet I should
bear no cross if I did bear you, for I think you have no money in your
purse.
I'd rather carry you than be carried, but I wouldn't have to carry your weight if you had money to pay me for it.
I'd rather carry you than let someone carry me, but if you had money you could pay me to do it, so that would be fine.
you got cash or we're stuck walking
Well, this is the forest of Arden.
Well, here we are in the forest of Arden.
So this is the forest of Arden.
this is it
Ay, now am I in Arden, the more fool I! When I was at home I was in a
better place, but travellers must be content.
Great, now I'm in Arden—which makes me a fool. I was better off at home, but that's what travelers do: they have to accept what they get.
Perfect. I'm in Arden now and that's stupid. I was way better off at home. But you know, when you're traveling, you just have to deal with it.
arden is a dump home was better
such is life
Ay, be so, good Touchstone. Look you, who comes here? A young man and
an old in solemn talk.
That's right, be content. Look—who's coming? A young man and an old man in serious conversation.
Right, be happy. Look, here come two people. One young, one old, having a serious talk.
look two men coming
Speaks in plain, practical sentences without irony. The only character in the forest who never performs — what he says is always exactly what he means. He's the play's honest witness.
That is the way to make her scorn you still.
That's exactly what makes her reject you.
That's why she keeps turning you down.
she hates it
Speaks in the elevated, suffering language of Petrarchan love poetry — everything is absolute, every feeling a crisis. Rosalind finds him absurd and recognizes herself in him simultaneously.
O Corin, that thou knew’st how I do love her!
Oh Corin, if you only knew how much I love her!
Corin, you don't get it. I love her so much.
you don't understand
I partly guess, for I have loved ere now.
I have some idea. I've loved before.
I think I know the feeling. I've been in love.
been there
No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess,
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover
As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow.
But if thy love were ever like to mine—
As sure I think did never man love so—
How many actions most ridiculous
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?
You can't know because you're old now. Yes, when you were young you loved, and you sighed into pillows at midnight. But did your love ever look like mine—as pure and total as what I feel? I'm certain no man has ever loved like this.
If your love was even close to mine, how many ridiculous things did it make you do?
No, you can't understand now because you're old. Maybe when you were young you loved someone, even at midnight. But was it like this? Like mine? I don't think anyone has ever loved the way I do.
If you'd loved like I do, how many stupid things would it have made you do?
you can't understand
you're old
no one's ever loved like this
the things love makes you do
Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
A thousand things I've forgotten.
A thousand. Probably more, honestly.
too many
O, thou didst then never love so heartily!
If thou rememb’rest not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into,
Thou hast not loved.
Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress’ praise,
Thou hast not loved.
Or if thou hast not broke from company
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not loved.
O Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe!
Then you've never loved truly. If you'd forgotten the smallest, dumbest thing love made you do, then you've never loved at all.
And if you haven't sat like I'm sitting now—boring everyone by talking about her constantly, exhausting your listener with her praise—then you've never loved.
Or if you haven't suddenly left a gathering because your passion pulled you away, breaking the conversation like I'm doing now—then you haven't loved.
Phebe! Phebe! Phebe!
Then you haven't loved. If you forgot even the tiniest stupid thing love made you do, you weren't in love.
If you haven't sat where I'm sitting—talking about her nonstop, boring everyone with how amazing she is—you haven't loved.
Or if you haven't just walked out of a room because you had to, because your heart was pulling you, the way I'm leaving now—you haven't loved.
Phebe! Phebe!
if you forgot it wasn't real
if you didn't bore everyone talking about her
if you didn't leave without reason
then you haven't loved
Alas, poor shepherd, searching of thy wound,
I have by hard adventure found mine own.
Poor young shepherd—watching his wound opened up like that, I've discovered my own in the process.
Watching him suffer like that just showed me what I'm suffering from too.
seeing his pain showed me mine
And I mine. I remember when I was in love I broke my sword upon a stone
and bid him take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile; and I remember
the kissing of her batlet, and the cow’s dugs that her pretty chopped
hands had milked; and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of
her, from whom I took two cods, and, giving her them again, said with
weeping tears, “Wear these for my sake.” We that are true lovers run
into strange capers. But as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature
in love mortal in folly.
And I know my own wound. I remember when I was in love I broke my sword on a stone and told the stone to give it to Jane Smile for visiting her at night. I remember kissing her tennis racket and her hands—those soft hands that milked cows. I remember courting her with a pea pod, and when I took two pods and gave them back to her, I said through tears: 'Wear these for my sake.' We real lovers do strange, stupid things. But it's like everything in nature—love's folly is mortal and human. Nothing lasts.
I know love. I remember being in love with Jane Smile. I actually broke my sword on a rock because the rock came to her house at night. I kissed her work glove, the one with calluses from milking. I literally courted her with a pea pod. Two peas. And I gave them back and cried and told her to keep them for me. We lovers are lunatics. But everything dies anyway, including love. That's just how it works.
broke my sword on a rock for jane smile
courted her with peas
we're all ridiculous
it all dies anyway
Silvius speaks in the full vocabulary of Petrarchan love poetry — the language of total devotion, the beloved's cruelty, the lover's endless suffering. This was the dominant mode of love poetry in the 1590s (Spenser, Sidney, countless sonneteers), and Shakespeare was writing against it as much as with it. Silvius is earnest, but he's also faintly ridiculous: his love has made him useless. The joke is that Rosalind, watching him, sees herself. She too is in the grip of Orlando, too is finding her feelings interfere with practical thought. The comedy of the scene depends on the audience seeing what Rosalind is only half-admitting: that being in love makes you look like Silvius, and Silvius is both touching and absurd.
Thou speak’st wiser than thou art ware of.
You speak more wisely than you realize.
You're smarter than you think.
that was actually wise
Nay, I shall ne’er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins
against it.
No, I won't really understand my own wit until I trip over it and break my legs.
I'll never get it until I literally fall on my face.
don't give me credit
Jove, Jove, this shepherd’s passion
Is much upon my fashion.
This shepherd's passion looks just like my own.
He's describing exactly what I'm feeling.
that's me
And mine, but it grows something stale with me.
Mine too, but it's wearing off.
Same, but I'm over it.
over it now
I pray you, one of you question yond man
If he for gold will give us any food.
I faint almost to death.
Please, one of you go ask that shepherd if he'll sell us some food for money. I'm about to faint.
Can someone ask him if he's got food to sell? I'm starving.
ask for food i can't go on
Holla, you clown!
Hey, you there!
Hey, you!
hey!
Peace, fool, he’s not thy kinsman.
Quiet, fool—he's not your relative.
Shut up. He's not some clown like you.
stop
Who calls?
Who's there?
What?
yes?
Your betters, sir.
Your betters, sir.
Better people than you.
your betters
Else are they very wretched.
Then they must be pretty miserable.
Then they're doing pretty badly.
then they're in trouble
Peace, I say.—Good even to you, friend.
Forgive me. Good evening, my friend.
Sorry about that. Hello there, friend.
hello
And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.
And good evening to you, gentle sir, and to all of you.
Hello to you too, and to all of you.
hello all
I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold
Can in this desert place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed.
Here’s a young maid with travel much oppressed,
And faints for succour.
My friend, if love or money can help in this wilderness, would you take us somewhere we can rest and eat? I have with me a young woman who's been worn out by travel and is about to faint from hunger.
Listen, if we can pay you, would you help us? We need food and a place to sleep. My friend here is exhausted and starving.
we need shelter we'll pay
she's starving
Fair sir, I pity her
And wish, for her sake more than for mine own,
My fortunes were more able to relieve her.
But I am shepherd to another man
And do not shear the fleeces that I graze.
My master is of churlish disposition
And little recks to find the way to heaven
By doing deeds of hospitality.
Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed
Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now,
By reason of his absence, there is nothing
That you will feed on. But what is, come see,
And in my voice most welcome shall you be.
I pity her and wish—for her sake even more than mine—that I had resources to help. But I'm just a hired shepherd. I don't own what I tend. My master is a hard man, not interested in doing good deeds. Besides, his farm is for sale, and right now there's nothing to spare at the cottage.
But come see what we have. Whatever it is, you'll be welcome.
I feel bad for her. I wish I could help you both, especially her. But I'm just working for someone else. I don't own this place. And my master is a difficult guy—not the charitable type. His whole farm is being sold off anyway. There's barely anything at the cottage right now.
But you can come look. Whatever we have, you're welcome to it.
i wish i could help i'm just a hired hand
master's tough, farm's for sale nothing to share
come anyway there's something
What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?
Who will be buying the farm and pasture?
Who's buying it?
who's the buyer
That young swain that you saw here but erewhile,
That little cares for buying anything.
That young shepherd you just saw—the one who doesn't care about buying anything.
That guy you just watched go crazy over his girlfriend. He doesn't care about money.
silvius he doesn't care
I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock,
And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.
Then please—if it's an honest deal—buy the cottage, pasture, and flock for us. We'll pay you for it.
Then buy it. Buy the cottage and the land and the sheep. We'll pay you. I mean, if you want to.
buy it for us we'll pay
And we will mend thy wages. I like this place,
And willingly could waste my time in it.
And we'll increase your wages. I like this place and would be happy to spend time here.
And we'll pay you more. I like it here. I could stay.
we'll pay more i like it here
Assuredly the thing is to be sold.
Go with me. If you like upon report
The soil, the profit, and this kind of life,
I will your very faithful feeder be,
And buy it with your gold right suddenly.
Yes, it's ready to be sold. Come with me. If you like what you see—the land, the profit, the way of life—I'll be your faithful servant and buy it with your money right away.
Yeah, it's up for sale. Come on, I'll show you. You like it? The place, the land, how it works? I'll buy it for you today. With your money.
it's for sale come see it
you like it? i'll buy it today
The Reckoning
The forest of Arden arrives not as paradise but as a hard road ending in an open field, with three very tired people bickering about their legs. Rosalind-as-Ganymede makes her first appearance in disguise, and immediately the comedy complicates: Silvius's lovesickness over Phebe hits Rosalind like a mirror — she sees her own feelings about Orlando in someone else's embarrassing performance. Touchstone's cynical counterpoint (he once broke a sword on a stone for Jane Smile, which is not the same as love but is what love looks like from outside) makes the scene's emotional math add up to something true. Then Corin arrives — a real shepherd with a real problem — and the practical business of survival asserts itself. By scene's end, they have a cottage, a flock, and the beginnings of a life.
If this happened today…
Three friends land in a foreign city after a red-eye flight, no hotel, phones at 3%, wallets light. They stumble on a guy in the park monologuing about his ex to an older man who is very gently trying to change the subject. Your friend recognizes the feeling. You just want coffee. The old man says: 'There's actually a little place nearby for rent — not mine, I'm just the caretaker — but the owner might sell.' And somehow, despite everything, by noon you have somewhere to stay.