As You Like It, Act 3, Scene 3

Touchstone

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?

Hurry along, good Audrey. I’ll round up your goats, Audrey. Well, Audrey? Am I your man yet? Are you happy with my plain looks?

Audrey

Your features, Lord warrant us! What features?

Your looks? Lord help us! What looks?

Touchstone

I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths.

Here I am with you and your goats, like that most goat-minded poet, good old Ovid, living among the Goths.

Jaques (aside)

O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a thatched house!

All that learning in such a poor home! Worse than Jove in a thatched cottage!

Touchstone

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 goes over people’s heads, and his fine wit finds no support from that clever child, understanding, it knocks him flatter than a huge bill in a little room. Really, I wish the gods had made you poetic.

Audrey

I do not know what “poetical” is. Is it honest in deed and word? Is it a true thing?

I don’t know what “poetic” means. Is it honest in what it does and says? Is it truthful?

Touchstone

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, really. The truest poetry is the most made up. Lovers are fond of poetry, and when they swear things in poems, you might say they’re making things up, as lovers do.

Audrey

Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me poetical?

Then do you wish the gods had made me poetic?

Touchstone

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 certainly do, because you swear to me that you’re chaste. Now, if you were a poet, I could hope you were making that up.

Audrey

Would you not have me honest?

Don’t you want me to be chaste?

Touchstone

No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured; for honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar.

No, honestly, unless you were ugly. Chastity combined with beauty is like putting honey on sugar.

Jaques (aside)

A material fool!

A fool with something to say!

Audrey

Well, I am not fair, and therefore I pray the gods make me honest.

Well, I’m not pretty, so I pray the gods will make me chaste.

Touchstone

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

Really, wasting chastity on an ugly, filthy woman would be like putting good meat in a dirty dish.

Audrey

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

I’m not filthy, though I thank the gods I’m ugly.

Touchstone

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, praise the gods for your ugliness. The filthiness may come later. But whatever happens, I’ll marry you. For that purpose, I’ve spoken to Sir Oliver Martext, the minister of the next village. He’s promised to meet me in this part of the forest and marry us.

Jaques (aside)

I would fain see this meeting.

I’d like to see this meeting.

Audrey

Well, the gods give us joy!

Well, may the gods give us happiness!

Touchstone

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.

Amen. A timid man might hesitate to attempt this, since we have no church here but the woods, and no congregation but horned animals. But what does that matter? Be brave! Horns, the sign of a cheating wife, are hateful, but unavoidable. They say, “Many a man doesn’t know the full extent of his possessions.” Right. Many a man has fine horns and doesn’t know how far they reach. Well, that’s his wife’s wedding gift; he didn’t earn it himself. Horns? Exactly. Only for poor men? No, no. The finest deer has horns as big as the scrawniest one. Is a single man therefore better off? No. Just as a walled town is worth more than a village, a married man’s forehead is more distinguished than a bachelor’s bare brow. And just as having defenses is better than having no means of defense, having horns is better than going without.

Martext

Is there none here to give the woman?

Isn’t anyone here to give the bride away?

Touchstone

I will not take her on gift of any man.

I won’t take her as a gift from any man.

Martext

Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful.

Really, someone must give her away, or the marriage isn’t legal.

Jaques

[Coming forward.] Proceed, proceed. I’ll give her.

Go ahead, go ahead. I’ll give her away.

Touchstone

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 Mr. What’s-your-name. How are you, sir? It’s very good to meet you. God reward you for keeping me company last time. I’m very glad to see you. Just a little business in hand here, sir. Please, put your hat back on.

Jaques

Will you be married, motley?

Are you going to get married, fool?

Touchstone

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.

Just as an ox has its yoke, sir, a horse its bit, and a falcon her bells, a man has his desires to keep him in check. And just as pigeons rub beaks, married people want to nibble at each other.

Jaques

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.

Will a man of your upbringing get married under a bush like a beggar? Go to church and find a good priest who can tell you what marriage means. This fellow will only fit you together like wooden wall panels. Then one of you will turn out to be a shrunken panel, and like unseasoned wood, you’ll warp and warp.

Touchstone (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 can’t help thinking I’d be better off married by him than by someone else. He probably won’t marry me properly, and if I’m not properly married, I’ll have a good excuse to leave my wife later.

Jaques

Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee.

Come with me and let me advise you.

Touchstone

Come, sweet Audrey. We must be married, or we must live in bawdry.Farewell, good Master Oliver. NotO sweet Oliver,O brave Oliver,Leave me not behind thee.ButWind away,—Begone, I say,I will not to wedding with thee.

Come, sweet Audrey. We must get married, or we’ll be living in sin.
Goodbye, good Master Oliver. I won’t sing, “Oh, sweet Oliver, oh, brave Oliver, don’t leave me behind.” Instead, “Go on your way! Get out, I say! I won’t go to my wedding with you.”

Martext

’Tis no matter. Ne’er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling.

It doesn’t matter. Not one of those ridiculous scoundrels will mock me out of my profession.