Come apace, good Audrey. I will fetch up your goats, Audrey. And how,
Audrey? Am I the man yet? Doth my simple feature content you?
Come quickly, good Audrey. I will fetch up your goats, Audrey. And so, Audrey? Am I the man yet? Does my simple appearance satisfy you?
Come on, Audrey. Let me get your goats. So, Audrey—do you think I'm good enough? Does the way I look work for you?
come on audrey lmk if im good enough do i look ok to u?
Speaks plainly and literally, which is the source of most of her comedy and all of her dignity. When Touchstone piles on philosophical wordplay, she responds with sincere, direct questions — 'Would you not have me honest?' 'Is it a true thing?' — not because she's dim but because she genuinely wants real answers and isn't going to pretend she understood the question. Her literalness is a form of integrity that the more 'educated' characters in this scene entirely lack. Watch for how often she asks the most important question in the room while everyone else is being clever.
Your features, Lord warrant us! What features?
Your appearance, Lord help us! What appearance?
Your looks? Good Lord, what are you talking about?
ur looks?? what do u even mean
I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest
Ovid, was among the Goths.
I am here with you and your goats, just as the most unpredictable poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths.
I'm here with you and your goats, like how the poet Ovid was stuck with the Goths—out of his element but making the best of it.
im here w u and ur goats like ovid w the goths
[_Aside_.] O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a thatched
house!
Oh, knowledge has such a poor home in you—it's like putting a god in a humble cottage!
Wow, knowledge really doesn't have a good home in you—it's like putting a god in a cheap shack!
god she's got no sense like putting a god in a tiny cottage
When a man’s verses cannot be understood, nor a man’s good wit seconded
with the forward child, understanding, it strikes a man more dead than
a great reckoning in a little room. Truly, I would the gods had made
thee poetical.
When a man's poetry cannot be grasped by anyone, and his clever wit lacks the support of understanding, which is supposed to be quick and keen, it destroys him more completely than discovering you owe a fortune in some miserable room. I truly wish the gods had given you the gift of poetry.
When nobody understands your poems, and your clever wordplay doesn't land because people don't get it—that kills you more than discovering you owe a fortune in a cheap room. I really wish the gods had made you into a poet.
when ppl dont get ur poems and ur wit falls flat it kills u worse than debt i wish u were poetic
I do not know what “poetical” is. Is it honest in deed and word? Is it
a true thing?
I don't understand what you mean by poetical. Does it mean being truthful in your actions and speech? Is it something genuine?
I don't know what you mean by poetical. Is it about being honest in what you do and say? Is it something real?
what is poetical? is it honest? is it real?
No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most feigning, and lovers are
given to poetry, and what they swear in poetry may be said, as lovers,
they do feign.
No, not at all; the best poetry is filled with the most deception, because lovers are drawn to poetry, and when lovers make promises in verse, those vows are all lies—lovers are perpetually dishonest.
Not at all. The best poetry is the fakest—full of lies. Lovers are always spouting poetry, and they say things in poems they don't really mean, because lovers are always lying.
nope true poetry = fake lovers lie in poems
Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me poetical?
So you want the gods to have made me into a poet?
So you're saying you wish the gods had made me a poet?
so u want me to be poetic?
As You Like It is saturated with performance. Rosalind plays Ganymede, who plays Rosalind. Silvius performs extravagant Petrarchan suffering for Phebe, who performs disdain. Even Celia becomes Aliena. Everyone in Arden has adopted a role.
Audrey has not. She has no alias, no persona, no rhetorical strategy. When Touchstone calls her 'a poor virgin' and 'ill-favoured,' she doesn't reframe it. When he delivers the 'feigning/faining' speech, she asks what 'poetical' means and whether it is 'a true thing.' She is asking, sincerely, for a definition. She cannot navigate the layers of irony available to everyone else in the scene because she doesn't know there are layers.
This makes her, paradoxically, the most honest character in a scene about honesty. The whole conversation circles around 'honest' — whether honesty (chastity) is a virtue or a problem, whether poetry's dishonesty is its strength, whether feigning and desiring are the same thing. Audrey's simple question — 'Would you not have me honest?' — cuts straight through all of this to the center. It's the question Touchstone cannot answer honestly.
Some productions play Audrey as dim. This is wrong. She is literal-minded, not unintelligent. The distinction matters enormously. She knows what she wants (to be married), she asks direct questions when she doesn't understand, and she is not fooled about Touchstone's character — she is simply willing to proceed anyway. Her pragmatism is as clear-eyed as anyone's in the forest. She just doesn't disguise it as philosophy.
I do, truly, for thou swear’st to me thou art honest. Now if thou wert
a poet, I might have some hope thou didst feign.
I do, truly, for you swear to me you are honest. Now if you were a poet, I might have some hope you were lying.
Yeah, I do. Because you swear to me you're honest. But if you were a poet, I could at least hope you were faking it.
yeah i do bc u swear ur honest if ur a poet maybe ur lying
Would you not have me honest?
Would you not want me to be honest?
You don't want me to be honest?
u dont want me honest?
No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured; for honesty coupled to
beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar.
No, truly, unless you were ugly; for honesty joined with beauty is like putting honey as a sauce to sugar.
No, not unless you were ugly. Because being honest when you're beautiful is like putting honey on sugar—too much of a good thing.
nope not unless ur ugly honesty + beauty = too much like honey on sugar
[_Aside_.] A material fool!
What a foolish, carnal man!
What an idiot he is!
total fool
Well, I am not fair, and therefore I pray the gods make me honest.
Since I'm not beautiful, I'm begging the gods to grant me honesty instead.
Well, I'm not beautiful, so I'm praying the gods will at least make me honest.
im not pretty so i pray to be honest
Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were to put good meat
into an unclean dish.
Truly, and to waste honesty on an ugly, loose woman would be like putting good meat into an unclean dish.
Right, and wasting honesty on an unattractive, loose woman would be like putting good food in a dirty plate.
wasting honesty on ugly ppl is like good food in dirty plates
I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul.
I am not a loose woman, though I thank the gods I am unattractive.
I'm not loose, even though I'm happy I'm not beautiful.
im not loose im glad im not pretty
Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness; sluttishness may come
hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will marry thee. And to that end I
have been with Sir Oliver Martext, the vicar of the next village, who
hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest and to couple us.
Well, praised be the gods for your ugliness; looseness may come later. But be it as it may, I will marry you. And to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Martext, the vicar of the next village, who has promised to meet me in this place of the forest and to marry us.
Well, thank God you're ugly; you might get loose later though. Anyway, I will marry you. I've already talked to Sir Oliver Martext, the vicar from the next village, and he's agreed to meet us here in the forest and marry us.
thank god ur ugly lol but im gonna marry u anyway talked to the vicar already
[_Aside_.] I would fain see this meeting.
I would really like to see this ceremony.
I'd love to see how this plays out.
i wanna see this
Christopher Marlowe died on May 30, 1593. He was twenty-nine. The coroner's inquest describes a room in Deptford, a dispute over a bill (a 'reckoning'), and a knife wound above the right eye. The man who killed him, Ingram Frizer, was pardoned within a month. Whether Marlowe's death was a tavern quarrel, a political assassination, or something in between has been argued for four centuries.
Shakespeare wrote As You Like It around 1599 — six years after Marlowe's death. Marlowe had been the dominant force in English drama before Shakespeare: Doctor Faustus, Tamburlaine, The Jew of Malta, Edward II. His death removed the only playwright who might have rivaled Shakespeare in longevity and influence.
The line 'a great reckoning in a little room' is not a smoking gun, but the evidence is strong. 'Reckoning' in Elizabethan English meant both a tavern bill and a final accounting — a settling of accounts with fate. 'A little room' describes both the physical space in Deptford and the limited compass of a life cut short. The speech context reinforces it: Touchstone is lamenting the death of a man whose verses 'cannot be understood' and whose 'wit' finds no 'forward child Understanding' to receive it — a poet killed not by deserved obscurity but by a trivial external cause.
That this line is given to the fool, in the middle of a comic hedge-marriage scene, is characteristic Shakespearean concealment. The people who recognized it in 1599 would have felt the weight of it. The people who didn't would have laughed at the marriage. Both responses were available simultaneously. That compression — high stakes hidden inside low comedy — is the scene in miniature.
Well, the gods give us joy!
Well, may the gods give us happiness!
Well, may God grant us happiness!
gods give us joy!
Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this
attempt, for here we have no temple but the wood, no assembly but
horn-beasts. But what though? Courage! As horns are odious, they are
necessary. It is said, “Many a man knows no end of his goods.” Right.
Many a man has good horns and knows no end of them. Well, that is the
dowry of his wife; ’tis none of his own getting. Horns? Even so. Poor
men alone? No, no, the noblest deer hath them as huge as the rascal. Is
the single man therefore blessed? No. As a walled town is more worthier
than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honourable
than the bare brow of a bachelor. And by how much defence is better
than no skill, by so much is horn more precious than to want.
A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, hesitate in this attempt, for here we have no temple but the wood, no assembly but horned beasts. But what does it matter? Courage! As horns are disgusting, they are necessary. It is said, 'Many a man knows no end of his goods.' Right. Many a man has good horns and knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife; it is none of his own earning. Horns? Even so. Poor men alone? No, no, the noblest deer has them as huge as the worst man. Is the single man therefore blessed? No. As a walled town is more worthy than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honorable than the bare forehead of a bachelor. And by how much defense is better than no skill, by so much is horn more precious than to lack.
A man might get cold feet about this, since we're getting married in the woods instead of a church, with nothing but animals around. But so what? Be brave! Yeah, horns on animals are disgusting, but they're necessary. There's a saying: 'Some men have endless riches'—well, some men have huge horns and endless horns. That's the dowry the wife brings. Poor guys aren't the only ones with horns—not at all, even the finest deer have them as big as the worst man. So is being unmarried better? No way. A walled city is better than a village, and the forehead of a married man is better than a bachelor's bare forehead. Protection is better than having no defense, and having horns is better than not having them.
might get scared no church just woods but courage! horns are disgusting but needed horns = marriage gift marriage > single life
Here comes Sir Oliver. Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met. Will you
dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your
chapel?
Here comes Sir Oliver. Sir Oliver Martext, I'm glad to see you. Will you perform the marriage ceremony for us right here under this tree, or should we go to your chapel?
Here comes Sir Oliver. Good to see you, Sir Oliver Martext. Will you marry us here under the tree, or should we go to your chapel?
here's sir oliver marry us here or at the chapel?
Is there none here to give the woman?
Is there nobody here who can give the woman away?
Is there no one here to give the woman away?
nobody here to give her away?
I will not take her on gift of any man.
I will not take her as a gift from any man.
I won't take her from anyone else—she's not a gift for me.
im not taking her as a gift
Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful.
For the marriage to be valid in the eyes of the law, she must be given in marriage by someone; otherwise it has no legal standing.
Truly, she has to be given away, or the marriage isn't legal.
she has to be given away or its not legal
[_Coming forward_.] Proceed, proceed. I’ll give her.
Go ahead, go ahead. I'll give her away.
Go right ahead. I'll be the one to give her away.
go for it i'll give her away
Good even, good Master What-ye-call’t, how do you, sir? You are very
well met. God ’ild you for your last company. I am very glad to see
you. Even a toy in hand here, sir. Nay, pray be covered.
Good evening, good Master What-do-you-call-yourself, how do you do, sir? You are very well met. God reward you for your last company. I am very glad to see you. Just a small thing in hand here, sir. No, please be covered.
Good evening, Master Whatever-your-name-is, how are you doing? Great to see you. Thanks for the last time we hung out. I'm really glad to see you. Just something small happening here, sir. No, keep your hat on.
hey master whatever how u doing good to c u keep ur hat on
Touchstone is the play's most self-aware character. He knows he is a fool — not just by title but by nature. He knows that his philosophical sophistication is partly a performance. And he knows, precisely, what he is doing with Audrey.
The hedge-marriage is not a love story going wrong. It is a transaction being negotiated with elaborate philosophical cover. Touchstone wants Audrey (physically). He also wants social legitimacy for that desire — some ceremony he can call a marriage. And he wants the arrangement to be easily undone if it becomes inconvenient. Sir Oliver Martext serves this purpose almost perfectly: real enough to call it a wedding, disreputable enough to give him an out later.
When Jaques intervenes, Touchstone listens — but not for the reasons Jaques thinks. Jaques tells him to get a proper priest because a hedge-marriage is aesthetically beneath him. Touchstone hears this and agrees to find a better ceremony. But notice what he says about why he was originally inclined toward Martext: 'not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife.' He was planning the exit before the entrance.
What makes this psychologically interesting rather than simply cynical is that Touchstone is the only character in the play who states his intentions plainly. Orlando doesn't know what he wants from Rosalind. Silvius can't see Phebe clearly. Rosalind herself is disguising her feelings under performance. Touchstone has no such disguise — he says exactly what the marriage is for. His honesty about his dishonesty is the closest thing to self-knowledge anyone in Arden achieves. It just happens to be directed at someone who deserves better.
Will you be married, motley?
Are you actually going through with this marriage, you fool?
Are you actually going to get married, you crazy fool?
ur actually getting married?
As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb, and the falcon her
bells, so man hath his desires; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would
be nibbling.
As the ox has his yoke, sir, the horse his curb, and the falcon her bells, so man has his desires; and as pigeons kiss, so marriage would be nibbling.
Just like an ox has his yoke, a horse has his bit, and a falcon has her bells—so a man has his desires; and just like pigeons bill and coo, marriage is about constant kissing and nibbling.
ox has his yoke horse has his bit man has his desires marriage = constant nibbling
And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under a bush
like a beggar? Get you to church, and have a good priest that can tell
you what marriage is. This fellow will but join you together as they
join wainscot; then one of you will prove a shrunk panel, and like
green timber, warp, warp.
A person of your social standing wants to get married out here under a tree, like some vagrant? You should go to a proper church and find a real priest who understands what marriage actually means. This man will only bind you together the way carpenters join wooden boards; then afterward one of you will shrink and the other will warp like unseasoned timber.
And you, being a man of your standing, are going to get married under a bush like a beggar? Go to church and get a real priest who knows what marriage is. This guy will just stick you together like they join wood panels; then one of you will shrink and twist like green timber.
ur getting married under a bush?? go to church this guy will just stick u 2gether then u both warp like wet wood
[_Aside_.] I am not in the mind but I were better to be married of him
than of another, for he is not like to marry me well, and not being
well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my
wife.
I believe it would actually be better to have him marry us badly than someone else, because since he won't do it right, I'll have a good excuse to leave my wife later.
Actually, I think it's better if he does a bad job marrying us than if someone else did it right—that way I'll have a solid excuse to dump her later.
honestly better if he messes up the marriage then i got a reason to leave her
Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee.
Go with me, and let me counsel you.
Go with me, and let me give you some advice.
come w me let me give u advice
Come, sweet Audrey. We must be married, or we must live in bawdry.
Farewell, good Master Oliver. Not
_O sweet Oliver,
O brave Oliver,
Leave me not behind thee._
But
_Wind away,—
Begone, I say,
I will not to wedding with thee._
Come, sweet Audrey. We must marry, or we'll be condemned to live shamefully. Goodbye, good Master Oliver. Not the song 'O sweet Oliver, O brave Oliver, do not leave me behind,' but instead 'Go away—Begone, I will not marry you.'
Come, sweet Audrey. We have to get married or we'll live in shame. Goodbye, good Master Oliver. Not the song about Oliver, but rather I'm saying begone—I'm not going to marry you.
come audrey we gotta marry or live in shame goodbye oliver im not marrying u
’Tis no matter. Ne’er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me
out of my calling.
It is no matter. Never a single crazy fool of them all will make fun of me out of my calling.
It doesn't matter. No foolish person is going to mock me or make me give up my job as a vicar.
dont matter nobody mocking me im a vicar
The Reckoning
This is the play's great comic counterpart to all the serious wooing elsewhere in Arden. Touchstone wants Audrey, wants philosophical cover for wanting her, and wants a marriage just ambiguous enough to be escapable — in that order. Audrey wants to be married and doesn't fully understand the game being played around her, which is the scene's uncomfortable undercurrent. Jaques appears not to stop the marriage on moral grounds but because he finds the absurdity of a hedge-marriage philosophically offensive. The scene ends with Touchstone agreeing to get married properly, but his intentions toward Audrey remain as unclear as his definition of 'poetical.'
If this happened today…
Picture a guy who talks like a philosophy PhD student bringing his girlfriend to get married at a roadside chapel by a notary public whose credentials are definitely not current. His best friend shows up, watches the whole spectacle with visible amusement, and eventually talks him into getting a real officiant — not because it's the right thing to do for her, but because getting married by a fake priest is aesthetically beneath them. The girlfriend just wants to know if she's getting married or not. It's 2025, the roadside chapel has a TikTok account, and the 'philosophy PhD' has been workshopping a speech about why cheating is actually a sign of social status.