As You Like It by William Shakespeare

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players. ~ Jacques

 

As You Like It is a comedy by William Shakespeare, written in the early seventeenth century. It is a complex tale of an exiled Duke, his younger brother, and usurper Frederick.

Lest we pity the exiled Senior Duke, he professes acceptance of his lot quite nobly...

 

And this our life, exempt from public haunt,

Finds tongue in trees, books in the running brooks,

Sermons in stones, and good in everything.

I would not change it.

 

But the real story is about Rosalind, the Senior Duke’s daughter, who remains at court until she runs afoul of her uncle and then flees with her cousin Celia, and the court fool, to the forest of Arden where the Senior Duke resides in exile. Rosalind travels incognito as the young man Ganymede, while Celia is disguised as the maiden Aliena.

 

If you know anything of Shakespeare, you should guess that Rosalind, while posing as a man, meets her love in the forest. Orlando befriends Ganymede and laments his hopeless love for the lady Rosalind to Ganymede, who is, of course, Rosalind herself.

 

Why she doesn’t reveal her true identity and profess her love for Orlando was lost on me; likely for some political necessity.

 

Meanwhile, a young shepherdess, Phebe, falls in love with Ganymede despite Ganymede’s/Rosalind’s best efforts to discourage her, for reasons obvious to the reader, but less obvious to Phebe. Phebe in turn shuns the love of the worthy shepherd Silvius.

 

Oh yes, the court fool, Touchstone, also falls in love, with the simple-minded shepherdess Audrey. Of course he does. And then there's a suitor for Celia as well.

 

A perfect Shakespearean comedy. In the end, Rosalind, still posing as Ganymede, concocts an intricate plot that will enable all the lovers and, by their oath, bind them to marry their lovers on the morrow. They agree but are not very hopeful. I wasn’t very hopeful myself, but it may have been more from confusion than genuine doubt.

 

But since it’s a comedy, you might guess how it turns out. Even Frederick repents from usurping his brother, adopts a religious life, and restores the Senior Duke to his domain.

 

If you’ll pardon the pun, all’s well that ends well.

 

I liked this play very much. It is sometimes confusing, but I suspect that is intentional. I think it would likely be clearer, and more comical, if experienced as it should be: enacted on stage.

 

This play contains one of the greatest lines in Shakespearean dialogue, albeit by a minor character, Jacques, brother of Orlando, and a very melancholy soul. This first line should be familiar. I’ve included his entire speech, which shows his cynicism, wit, and wisdom.

 

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

 

Contemporary aphorisms derived from this play:

 

Rosalind, posing as a man, asks Orlando…

But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak?

 

To which Orlando replies…

Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.

 

^.