Act III, Scene iii:
Another part of the Forest.

[Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY; JAQUES at a distance observingthem.]

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?

AUDREY:

Your features! Lord warrant us! what features?

TOUCHSTONE:

I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most

capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths.

JAQUES:

[Aside] O knowledge ill-inhabited! worse than Jove in a thatch'd

house!

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.

AUDREY:

I do not know what poetical is: is it honest in deed and

word? is it a true thing?

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.

AUDREY:

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

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.

AUDREY:

Would you not have me honest?

TOUCHSTONE:

No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured; for honesty

coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar.

JAQUES:

[Aside] A material fool!

AUDREY:

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

honest!

TOUCHSTONE:

Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were

to put good meat into an unclean dish.

AUDREY:

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

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.

JAQUES:

[Aside] I would fain see this meeting.

AUDREY:

Well, the gods give us joy!

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? Ever to 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.

Here comes Sir Oliver.

[Enter SIR OLIVER MARTEXT.]

Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met. Will you despatch us

here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel?

MARTEXT:

Is there none here to give the woman?

TOUCHSTONE:

I will not take her on gift of any man.

MARTEXT:

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

JAQUES:

[Discovering himself.] Proceed, proceed; I'll give her.

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.

JAQUES:

Will you be married, motley?

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.

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.

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.

JAQUES:

Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee.

TOUCHSTONE:

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.

[Exeunt JAQUES, TOUCHSTONE, and AUDREY.]

MARTEXT:

'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical knave of them all

shall flout me out of my calling.

[Exit.]