AS YOU LIKE IT Seen Through TENDER BUTTONS

AS YOU LIKE IT Seen Through TENDER BUTTONS was first published in Scene4 Magazine in a slightly different version. It bears repeating here in the middle of discussing "Roastbeef." because this is where the connection between As You Like It and Tender Buttons was solidified.

The Steiny Road Poet has experienced an epiphany about Gertrude Stein’s interest in William Shakespeare’s As You Like It. While it is no secret that Stein quoted almost a full page of this play as epigraph to her unabashed lesbian novel Q.E.D., the close connection of Tender Buttons, a work most readers say is Stein’s hardest to access, to As You Like It is a revelation.

On the surface, story and structure of As You Like It was undoubtedly appealing to Gertrude Stein. This circa 1599 comedy focuses on Rosalind, a young woman who simultaneously is beloved too well by her girl cousin Celia and hated by her uncle, father of Celia and the enemy of Rosalind’s father. To escape his certain death sentence, Rosalind is persuaded by Celia to runaway into the Arden Forest to look for Rosalind’s father. Rosalind puts on male clothing. Both girls change their names. Just prior to the banishment, Rosalind has fallen in love with Orlando and he with her. In Arden Forest, the girls find Orlando’s love poems about Rosalind tacked to the trees. Pretty soon, a young shepherdess has fallen in love with the disguised Rosalind, and Rosalind as Ganymede has engaged Orlando and persuaded him that he should pretend Ganymede is Rosalind to perfect his ability to express his love for her. The two gender confusing scenarios ultimately are resolved. And, most importantly, Shakespeare gives Rosalind, with her epilogue, the last words of the play. For Shakespeare, this emphasis on women was revolutionary. But also keep in mind that all the parts in Shakespeare’s time were played by men or boys who sometimes had to masquerade as women or girls.

Is As You Like It the only source of Stein’s inspiration for Tender Buttons? No, a vigilant reader, for example, can see hints of other Shakespeare plays, the poetry of Walt Whitman, and The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde. Most Stein scholars believe that Stein does not make literary allusions in her work. What Stein does is in keeping with her “system to pointing” that she establishes in “A carafe, that is a blind glass.”, the opening subpoem of Tender Buttons. Think of Stein’s system to pointing as a landscape seeded with objects that suggest inspirational sources.

The As You Like It influences on Tender Buttons that Steiny sees deal with sexuality, identity, naming, social justice, word play, use of particular words, and strategies for approaching such off-limits subjects as religion. In Stein’s lecture “Poetry and Grammar” (published in Lectures in America by Gertrude Stein, Boston: Beacon Press, 1957. pp. 236), she directly attributes Shakespeare’s influence on Tender Buttons relative to her struggle with nouns and naming things:

“I had always been very impressed from the time that I was very young by having had it told me and then afterwards feeling it myself that Shakespeare in the forest of Arden had created a forest without mentioning the things that make a forest. You feel it all but he does not name names.

“Now that was thing I too felt in me the need of making it be a thing that could be named without using its name.”

While it is not entirely understandable why Stein says Shakespeare has created a forest without mentioning the things that make a forest, it is clear that Stein is referring to As You Like It by naming the forest of Arden, which Shakespeare uses only in this particular play. Possibly Stein means the forest of Arden is a metaphor for escaping the society of the time and, in that kind of forest, things could not be named without dire consequence.

Steiny will highlight words that are important to the text and literary strategy of Tender Buttons as well as gloss certain aspects of Shakespeare’s story as it pertains to Stein’s text and personal biography. This look at the text of As You Like It as a seed text for Tender Buttons is not comprehensive, but should serve as platform for better understanding Stein’s strategies in Tender Buttons.

ACT I
SCENE I. Orchard of Oliver’s house.
Enter ORLANDO and ADAM

ORLANDO
As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion 
bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, 
and, as thou sayest, charged my brother, on his 
blessing, to breed me well: and there begins my 
sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and 
report speaks goldenly of his profit: for my part,
he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more 
properly, stays me here at home unkept; for call you 
that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that
differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses
are bred better; for, besides that they are fair
with their feeding, they are taught their manage, 
and to that end riders dearly hired: but I, his 
brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the 
which his animals on his dunghills are as much 
bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so 
plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave 
me his countenance seems to take from me: he lets 
me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a 
brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my 
gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that 
grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I 
think is within me, begins to mutiny against this 
servitude: I will no longer endure it, though yet I 
know no wise remedy how to avoid it.

Orlando is a brother kept under wraps and not allowed his proper place at court. This opening speech by Orlando uses two words Stein pays attention to in Tender Buttons: “fashion: and “ox” (cattle, cows) and points to the subject of breeding which will be addressed a little further along in this scene.

ADAM
Yonder comes my master, your brother.
ORLANDO
Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up.
Enter OLIVER
OLIVER
Now, sir! what make you here?
ORLANDO
Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing.
OLIVER
What mar you then, sir?
ORLANDO
Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God 
made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. 
OLIVER
Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile. 
ORLANDO
Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them? 
What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should
come to such penury?
OLIVER
Know you where your are, sir?
ORLANDO
O, sir, very well; here in your orchard.
OLIVER
Know you before whom, sir?
ORLANDO
Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know
you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle
condition of blood, you should so know me. The 
courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that
you are the first-born; but the same tradition

takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers 
betwixt us: I have as much of my father in me as 
you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is 
nearer to his reverence.
OLIVER
What, boy!
ORLANDO
Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.
OLIVER
Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?
ORLANDO
I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir
Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice
a villain that says such a father begot villains.
Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand
from thy throat till this other had pulled out thy
tongue for saying so: thou hast railed on thyself.
ADAM
Sweet masters, be patient: for your father's 
remembrance, be at accord.
OLIVER
Let me go, I say.
ORLANDO
I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. My
father charged you in his will to give me good
education: you have trained me like a peasant,
obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like
qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in
me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow
me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or
give me the poor allottery my father left me by
testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes.
OLIVER
And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent?
Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be troubled
with you; you shall have some part of your will: I
pray you, leave me.
ORLANDO
I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good. 
OLIVER
Get you with him, you old dog.
ADAM
Is 'old dog' my reward? Most true, I have lost my
teeth in your service. God be with my old master!
he would not have spoke such a word.

Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM

The scene of the two brothers arguing brings to mind Gertrude and her older brother Leo during the period when Gertrude was writing Tender Buttons. Education was at issue. Leo thought Gertrude should use her intelligence in a better way than writing Tender Buttons and not be influenced by Picasso and his cubist art, which Leo detested.

During the period leading to the writing of Tender Buttons, Gertrude and Leo had dressed in similar ways—she, in brown corduroy skirt and jacket or robe and he, in brown corduroy pants and jacket and both wearing sandals). This made people they knew gossip. Folks said they looked like monastic friars and referred to them as the Stein Frères (brothers).

OLIVER
Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? I will 
physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand 
crowns neither. Holla, Dennis!
Enter DENNIS
DENNIS
Calls your worship?
OLIVER
Was not Charles, the duke's wrestler, here to speak with me?
DENNIS
So please you, he is here at the door and importunes 
access to you.
OLIVER
Call him in.
Exit DENNIS
'Twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is.
Enter CHARLES
CHARLES
Good morrow to your worship.
OLIVER
Good Monsieur Charles, what's the new news at the new court?
CHARLES
There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news: 
that is, the old duke is banished by his younger 
brother the new duke; and three or four loving lords

have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, 
whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke; 
therefore he gives them good leave to wander.

Here we are introduced to a second set of warring brothers.

OLIVER
Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke's daughter, be 
banished with her father?
CHARLES
O, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves 
her, being ever from their cradles bred together, 
that she would have followed her exile, or have died 
to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no
less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and 
never two ladies loved as they do.

The issue of breeding is raised a second time. Orlando is outraged that his brother Oliver has banished him to the pig farm instead of being treated in a manner that befits his breeding (i.e. his father’s station at court). Here, Rosalind is not banished with her deposed father because the reigning duke’s daughter was bred with her cousin and loves her dearly, so dearly that Rosalind’s absence would adversely affect the life of her cousin.

In Tender Buttons, breeding is at stake relative to proper decorum and what society permits. In loving Alice Toklas, Gertrude Stein is breaching the laws of accepted social behavior and her love for Toklas is much like Celia’s love for Rosalind—she cannot live without her. Also the line, never two ladies loved as they do, must have excited Stein to her core. In Shakespeare, Stein finds an ally for her same-sex choice.

OLIVER
Where will the old duke live?
CHARLES
They say he is already in the forest of Arden, and
a many merry men with him; and there they live like 
the old Robin Hood of England: they say many young 
gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time 
carelessly, as they did in the golden world.
OLIVER
What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke? 
CHARLES
Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a 
matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand
that your younger brother Orlando hath a disposition 
to come in disguised against me to try a fall.

To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that 
escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him 
well. Your brother is but young and tender; and,

for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I
must, for my own honour, if he come in: therefore,
out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you 
withal, that either you might stay him from his 
intendment or brook such disgrace well as he shall
run into, in that it is a thing of his own search
and altogether against my will.

Orlando plans to come in disguise to wrestle against his brother’s man Charles. The wrestling match takes place before the new reigning duke. This scene may have resonated strongly with Gertrude Stein because throughout her life up to 1913, she had been very close to her brother Leo. When he decided to quit his studies at Johns Hopkins University where she was studying medicine from 1899 to 1903??, she took up boxing as a way to ease her loneliness.

OLIVER
Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which
thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had
myself notice of my brother's purpose herein and
have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from 
it, but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles:
it is the stubbornest young fellow of France, full
of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's 
good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against 
me his natural brother: therefore use thy
discretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck
as his finger. And thou wert best look to't; for if
thou dost him any slight disgrace or if he do not 
mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise 
against thee by poison, entrap thee by some 
treacherous device and never leave thee till he
hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other; f
or, I assure thee, and almost with tears I speak
it, there is not one so young and so villanous this
day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but
should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must
blush and weep and thou must look pale and wonder. 
CHARLES
I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come 
to-morrow, I'll give him his payment: if ever he go 
alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize more: and
so God keep your worship!
OLIVER

Farewell, good Charles.

Exit CHARLES
Now will I stir this gamester: I hope I shall see
an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, 
hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle, never 
schooled and yet learned, full of noble device, of 
all sorts enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much i
n the heart of the world, and especially of my own 
people, who best know him, that I am altogether 
misprised: but it shall not be so long; this
wrestler shall clear all: nothing remains but that
I kindle the boy thither; which now I'll go about.
Exit

Gaming is prevalent throughout Tender Buttons with references to card and parlor games like pocket billiards. In Tender Buttons, Stein is the gamester who exhibits various tricks of language and writing.

SCENE II. Lawn before the Duke’s palace.
Enter CELIA and ROSALIND

CELIA
I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry.

Tender Buttons opens “A kind in glass and a cousin, a spectacle and nothing strange.” The establishment of kissing cousins in As You Like It might be seen as Rosalind representing Gertrude Stein (“Rose is a rose is a rose” is Stein’s emblematic phrase) and Celia representing Alice Toklas (C-e-l-i-a anagrammatically spells A-l-i-c-e).

ROSALIND
Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; 
and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could 
teach me to forget a banished father, you must not 
learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure. 
CELIA
Herein I see thou lovest me not with the full weight 
that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, 
had banished thy uncle, the duke my father, so thou 
hadst been still with me, I could have taught my 
love to take thy father for mine: so wouldst thou,
if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously

tempered as mine is to thee.

Toklas spurned the “love from,” or rather need of, her father when she decided to “marry” Stein and stay in Paris as opposed to going back to her father’s home in San Francisco. Toklas proved until her death that she was completely dedicated to Stein and Stein’s work.

ROSALIND
Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to 
rejoice in yours.
CELIA
You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is l
ike to have: and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt
be his heir, for what he hath taken away from thy 
father perforce, I will render thee again in 
affection; by mine honour, I will; and when I break 
that oath, let me turn monster: therefore, my 
sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. 
ROSALIND
From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let 
me see; what think you of falling in love?
CELIA
Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal: but
love no man in good earnest; nor no further in sport 
neither than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst 
in honour come off again.

Here again comes the subject of games and love is a popular sport that Rosalind flirtatiously addresses with her girl cousin. Celia says she “love[s] no man in good earnest.” Subpoem 7 of Tender Buttons Objects reads:

NOTHING ELEGANT.
A charm a single charm is doubtful. If the red is rose and there is a gate surrounding it, if inside is let in and there places change then certainly something is upright. It is earnest.

This subpoem seems to address Rosalind (by name—rose) and her plight directly even to Rosalind addressing Celia’s scenario if the tables were turned (if inside is let in and there places change) what would happen to them if their fathers’ roles were reversed.

ROSALIND
What shall be our sport, then?
CELIA
Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from

her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.

ROSALIND
I would we could do so, for her benefits are
mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman 
doth most mistake in her gifts to women.
CELIA
'Tis true; for those that she makes fair she scarce 
makes honest, and those that she makes honest she 
makes very ill-favouredly.
ROSALIND
Nay, now thou goest from Fortune's office to 
Nature's: Fortune reigns in gifts of the world,
not in the lineaments of Nature.
Enter TOUCHSTONE
CELIA
No? when Nature hath made a fair creature, may she 
not by Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature
hath given us wit to flout at Fortune, hath not
Fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument? 
ROSALIND
Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when 
Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off of 
Nature's wit.

Words like "cutter-off" must have had profound effect on Stein. Here is a noun with an active sense incorporated. Steiny sees Gertrude Stein taking her permission from such constructions. For example, Stein's title "It was black, black took." (from Objects section, the 57th subpoem) that makes the past tense of take (took) a noun.

CELIA
Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neither, but 
Nature's; who perceiveth our natural wits too dull
to reason of such goddesses and hath sent this 
natural for our whetstone; for always the dullness of 
the fool is the whetstone of the wits. How now,
wit! whither wander you?
TOUCHSTONE
Mistress, you must come away to your father.
CELIA
Were you made the messenger?
TOUCHSTONE
No, by mine honour, but I was bid to come for you.
ROSALIND
Where learned you that oath, fool?
TOUCHSTONE
Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they
were good pancakes and swore by his honour the 
mustard was naught: now I'll stand to it, the
pancakes were naught and the mustard was good, and 
yet was not the knight forsworn.

CELIA

How prove you that, in the great heap of your 
knowledge?
ROSALIND
Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. 
TOUCHSTONE
Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and 
swear by your beards that I am a knave.

The game of crossing gender lines begins here with Touchstone, the court fool. Stein considered herself a male persona and so Tender Buttons, the covert love story of Stein and Toklas plays out in language versus body manifestations (i.e. Stein has no beard, no male sexual organs).

CELIA
By our beards, if we had them, thou art.
TOUCHSTONE
By my knavery, if I had it, then I were; but if you 
swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no 
more was this knight swearing by his honour, for he 
never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away 
before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard. CELIA
Prithee, who is't that thou meanest?
TOUCHSTONE
One that old Frederick, your father, loves.
CELIA
My father's love is enough to honour him: enough! 
speak no more of him; you'll be whipped for taxation 
one of these days.
TOUCHSTONE
The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what 
wise men do foolishly.
CELIA
By my troth, thou sayest true; for since the little
wit that fools have was silenced, the little foolery
that wise men have makes a great show. Here comes 
Monsieur Le Beau.
ROSALIND
With his mouth full of news.
CELIA
Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young. 
ROSALIND
Then shall we be news-crammed.
CELIA
All the better; we shall be the more marketable.

Enter LE BEAU

Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: what's the news?
LE BEAU
Fair princess, you have lost much good sport.
CELIA
Sport! of what colour?
LE BEAU
What colour, madam! how shall I answer you?
ROSALIND
As wit and fortune will.
TOUCHSTONE
Or as the Destinies decree.
CELIA
Well said: that was laid on with a trowel.
TOUCHSTONE
Nay, if I keep not my rank,--
ROSALIND
Thou losest thy old smell.
LE BEAU
You amaze me, ladies: I would have told you of good 
wrestling, which you have lost the sight of. 
ROSALIND
You tell us the manner of the wrestling.
LE BEAU
I will tell you the beginning; and, if it please
your ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is
yet to do; and here, where you are, they are coming
to perform it.
CELIA
Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried.
LE BEAU
There comes an old man and his three sons,--
CELIA
I could match this beginning with an old tale.
LE BEAU
Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence. 
ROSALIND
With bills on their necks, 'Be it known unto all men
by these presents.'
LE BEAU
The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the
duke's wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him
and broke three of his ribs, that there is little
hope of life in him: so he served the second, and

so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old man, 
their father, making such pitiful dole over them t
hat all the beholders take his part with weeping. 
ROSALIND

Alas!
TOUCHSTONE
But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies 
have lost?
LE BEAU
Why, this that I speak of.
TOUCHSTONE
Thus men may grow wiser every day: it is the first 
time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport 
for ladies.
CELIA
Or I, I promise thee.
ROSALIND
But is there any else longs to see this broken music 
in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon 
rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrestling, cousin? 
LE BEAU
You must, if you stay here; for here is the place 
appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to 
perform it.
CELIA
Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay and see it.
Flourish. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, ORLANDO, CHARLES, and Attendants
DUKE FREDERICK
Come on: since the youth will not be entreated, his 
own peril on his forwardness.
ROSALIND
Is yonder the man?
LE BEAU
Even he, madam.
CELIA
Alas, he is too young! yet he looks successfully.
DUKE FREDERICK
How now, daughter and cousin! are you crept hither 
to see the wrestling?
ROSALIND
Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave.
DUKE FREDERICK
You will take little delight in it, I can tell you;

there is such odds in the man. In pity of the 
challenger's youth I would fain dissuade him, but he

will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies; see if
you can move him.
CELIA
Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau.
DUKE FREDERICK
Do so: I'll not be by.
LE BEAU
Monsieur the challenger, the princesses call for you. 
ORLANDO
I attend them with all respect and duty.
ROSALIND
Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler? 
ORLANDO
No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I
come but in, as others do, to try with him the
strength of my youth.
CELIA
Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your 
years. You have seen cruel proof of this man's 
strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes or
knew yourself with your judgment, the fear of your 
adventure would counsel you to a more equal 
enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to 
embrace your own safety and give over this attempt. 
ROSALIND
Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore
be misprised: we will make it our suit to the duke
that the wrestling might not go forward.
ORLANDO
I beseech you, punish me not with your hard
thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny
so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let
your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my
trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one
shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one
dead that was willing to be so: I shall do my
friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me, the 
world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in
the world I fill up a place, which may be better
supplied when I have made it empty.
ROSALIND
The little strength that I have, I would it were with you. 
CELIA
And mine, to eke out hers.

ROSALIND

Fare you well: pray heaven I be deceived in you!
CELIA
Your heart's desires be with you!
CHARLES
Come, where is this young gallant that is so
desirous to lie with his mother earth?
ORLANDO
Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working. 
DUKE FREDERICK
You shall try but one fall.
CHARLES
No, I warrant your grace, you shall not entreat him 
to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him 
from a first.
ORLANDO
An you mean to mock me after, you should not have 
mocked me before: but come your ways. 
ROSALIND
Now Hercules be thy speed, young man!
CELIA
I would I were invisible, to catch the strong 
fellow by the leg.
They wrestle
ROSALIND
O excellent young man!
CELIA
If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who 
should down.
Shout. CHARLES is thrown
DUKE FREDERICK
No more, no more.
ORLANDO
Yes, I beseech your grace: I am not yet well breathed.
DUKE FREDERICK
How dost thou, Charles?
LE BEAU
He cannot speak, my lord.
DUKE FREDERICK
Bear him away. What is thy name, young man?
ORLANDO
Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys.

DUKE FREDERICK

I would thou hadst been son to some man else:
The world esteem'd thy father honourable,
But I did find him still mine enemy:
Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this deed, 
Hadst thou descended from another house.
But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth:
I would thou hadst told me of another father.
Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK, train, and LE BEAU
CELIA
Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
ORLANDO
I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son,
His youngest son; and would not change that calling, 
To be adopted heir to Frederick.
ROSALIND
My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul,
And all the world was of my father's mind:
Had I before known this young man his son,
I should have given him tears unto entreaties,
Ere he should thus have ventured.
CELIA
Gentle cousin,
Let us go thank him and encourage him:
My father's rough and envious disposition
Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserved:
If you do keep your promises in love
But justly, as you have exceeded all promise,
Your mistress shall be happy.
ROSALIND
Gentleman,
Giving him a chain from her neck
Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune,
That could give more, but that her hand lacks means. 
Shall we go, coz?
CELIA
Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman.
ORLANDO
Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts
Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up 
Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.
ROSALIND

He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes; 
I'll ask him what he would. Did you call, sir?

Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown 
More than your enemies.
CELIA
Will you go, coz?
ROSALIND
Have with you. Fare you well.
Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA
ORLANDO
What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? 
I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference.
O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown!
Or Charles or something weaker masters thee.
Re-enter LE BEAU
LE BEAU
Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you
To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved 
High commendation, true applause and love, 
Yet such is now the duke's condition
That he misconstrues all that you have done. 
The duke is humorous; what he is indeed, 
More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. 
ORLANDO
I thank you, sir: and, pray you, tell me this: 
Which of the two was daughter of the duke 
That here was at the wrestling?
LE BEAU
Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners; 
But yet indeed the lesser is his daughter
The other is daughter to the banish'd duke, 
And here detain'd by her usurping uncle,
To keep his daughter company; whose loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. 
But I can tell you that of late this duke
Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece, 
Grounded upon no other argument
But that the people praise her for her virtues 
And pity her for her good father's sake;
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady 
Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well: 
Hereafter, in a better world than this,

I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.

“Book.” the 55th subpoem of Tender Buttons “Objects speaks to numerous passages of As You Like It. Here the last stanza of “Book.” resonates:

Please a plate, put a match to the seam and really then really then, really then it is a remark that joins many many lead games. It is a sister and sister and a flower and a flower and a dog and a colored sky a sky colored grey and nearly that nearly that let.

If we read this passage using a Shakespearean lexicon, the stanza might be translated as: Please give me plate-armor, because a match (the kind that produces fire) struck and held to the seam (grease or fat) has ignited the game of love where two beautiful women hunt with their dog as the sunsets and they have come upon an obstacle. Notice mention of a dog two lines into Scene iii below. Also the match in Stein’s text could very well be Orlando wrestling Charles, if one thinks of Orlando as an alter ego of Rosalind, the stand in for Stein.

ORLANDO
I rest much bounden to you: fare you well.
Exit LE BEAU
Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; 
From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother:
But heavenly Rosalind!
Exit

SCENE III. A room in the palace.
Enter CELIA and ROSALIND

CELIA
Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! not a word?
ROSALIND
Not one to throw at a dog.
CELIA
No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon
curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons. 
ROSALIND
Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one
should be lamed with reasons and the other mad
without any.
CELIA
But is all this for your father?

ROSALIND

No, some of it is for my child's father. O, how f
ull of briers is this working-day world!
CELIA
They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in 
holiday foolery: if we walk not in the trodden 
paths our very petticoats will catch them.

Dressing in layers of petticoats was problematic for women from Shakespeare’s time through the Victorian Period. Petticoats added weight and bulk and restricted movement of the body. One contingent of the Rational Dress Reform movement was to exchange petticoats for bloomers so that women could easily do such things as ride bicycles. The Rational Dress Reform also believed in liberation of the waist and recommended doing away with corsets.

Topically, petticoat and waist show up as “A petticoat.” and “A waist.”, subpoems 35 and 36 of Tender Buttons “Objects.” Both subpoems use the word disgrace. In women’s fashion of Stein’s day, having a cinched in waist and wearing frilly petticoats was a form of grace. Here is “A petticoat.” in its entirety:

A PETTICOAT.
A light white, a disgrace, an ink spot, a rosy charm.

Here is the last sentence of the fourth stanza of “A waist.”:

A country climb is the best disgrace, a couple of practices any of them in order is so left.

For Shakespeare’s purpose, this exchange sets up Rosalind’s decision to flee in the disguise of male clothing.

ROSALIND
I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my heart.
CELIA
Hem them away.
ROSALIND
I would try, if I could cry 'hem' and have him.
CELIA
Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.
ROSALIND
O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself!
CELIA
O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in 
despite of a fall. But, turning these jests out of 
service, let us talk in good earnest: is it

possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so 
strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son? 
ROSALIND

The duke my father loved his father dearly.
CELIA
Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son 
dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him,
for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate
not Orlando.
ROSALIND
No, faith, hate him not, for my sake.
CELIA
Why should I not? doth he not deserve well?
ROSALIND
Let me love him for that, and do you love him 
because I do. Look, here comes the duke. 
CELIA
With his eyes full of anger.
Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords
DUKE FREDERICK
Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste 
And get you from our court.
ROSALIND
Me, uncle?
DUKE FREDERICK
You, cousin
Within these ten days if that thou be'st found 
So near our public court as twenty miles,
Thou diest for it.
ROSALIND
I do beseech your grace,
Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me: 
If with myself I hold intelligence
Or have acquaintance with mine own desires, 
If that I do not dream or be not frantic,--
As I do trust I am not--then, dear uncle,
Never so much as in a thought unborn
Did I offend your highness.
DUKE FREDERICK
Thus do all traitors:
If their purgation did consist in words,
They are as innocent as grace itself:
Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not. 
ROSALIND

Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor: 
Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. 
DUKE FREDERICK

Thou art thy father's daughter; there's enough. 
ROSALIND
So was I when your highness took his dukedom; 
So was I when your highness banish'd him: 
Treason is not inherited, my lord;
Or, if we did derive it from our friends,
What's that to me? my father was no traitor: 
Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much 
To think my poverty is treacherous.
CELIA
Dear sovereign, hear me speak.
DUKE FREDERICK
Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake,
Else had she with her father ranged along. 
CELIA
I did not then entreat to have her stay;
It was your pleasure and your own remorse: I
 was too young that time to value her;
But now I know her: if she be a traitor,
Why so am I; we still have slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together, 
And wheresoever we went, like Juno's swans,
Still we went coupled and inseparable.

Union is a major theme of As You Like It as well as Tender Buttons. Shakespeare drives this home with his phrase “Rose at an instant,” which means the two cousin woke up together, but also suggests that Celia is so bonded with Rosalind she unites with Rose and throughout the play, except for one scene, if Rosalind is on stage, so is Celia.
Shakespeare gets it wrong about the swans—sure swans usually mate for life, but it was Venus, Goddess of Love who had a pair of swans pulling her chariot. In “A substance in a cushion.” from Tender Buttons “Objects,” Stein writes:

A seal and matches and a swan and ivy and a suit.

Thumbing through Shakespeare’s dictionary, seal, match, and suit have similar definitions that relate to an agreement between two parties: seal—a pledge or promise, match—a contract or agreement, and suit—a formal request or petition. According to mythology, ivy was used in the poet Bacchus’ crown and boiled ivy leaves were supposed to ward of drunkenness. According to Greek tradition, an ivy wreath is presented to newly married persons as an emblem of fidelity. Therefore this cryptic line by Stein could translate to issues about union.

Also the fact that some of Stein’s word better translate using Shakespeare’s lexicon reinforces Stein’s strategy to employ simple Anglo-Saxon words in her writing.

DUKE FREDERICK
She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness, 
Her very silence and her patience
Speak to the people, and they pity her.
Thou art a fool: she robs thee of thy name;
And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous 
When she is gone. Then open not thy lips:
Firm and irrevocable is my doom
Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd.

Leo Stein counseled his sister that she should not persists with this idea of being a couple with Alice Toklas because the union would drag down Gertrude and rober her of her good name.

CELIA
Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege: 
I cannot live out of her company.
DUKE FREDERICK
You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself:
If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, 
And in the greatness of my word, you die.
Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK and Lords
CELIA
O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go?
Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.
I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am. 
ROSALIND
I have more cause.
CELIA
Thou hast not, cousin;
Prithee be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke 
Hath banish'd me, his daughter?
ROSALIND
That he hath not.
CELIA
No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one:
Shall we be sunder'd? shall we part, sweet girl? 
No: let my father seek another heir.
Therefore devise with me how we may fly, 
Whither to go and what to bear with us;
And do not seek to take your change upon you, 
To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out; 
For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,

Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee.

Besides being a covert love poem, Tender Buttons is about Stein devising a new grammar. Shakespeare’s line, “thou and I am one,” uses a singular verb (as oppose to the plural art or are) as if to emphasis the aspect of union and becoming one. One example of Stein’s breach of singular plural grammar is her subpoem title “Suppose an eyes.” as opposed to “Suppose an eye.” (singular). Usually Stein’s breaches are used to upset expectations so that her audience will pay attention to the word choices and hear the words anew.

ROSALIND
Why, whither shall we go?
CELIA
To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden.
ROSALIND
Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far! 
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. 
CELIA
I'll put myself in poor and mean attire
And with a kind of umber smirch my face; 
The like do you: so shall we pass along 
And never stir assailants.
ROSALIND
Were it not better,
Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man?
A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,
A boar-spear in my hand; and--in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will-- 
We'll have a swashing and a martial outside,
As many other mannish cowards have
That do outface it with their semblances.
CELIA
What shall I call thee when thou art a man? 
ROSALIND
I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page; 
And therefore look you call me Ganymede.
But what will you be call'd?
CELIA
Something that hath a reference to my state
No longer Celia, but Aliena.

Here Rosalind and Celia decide to go undercover, including changing their names. Stein has a lot to say about names in her Lectures in America “Poetry and Grammar” essay where she attempts to teach her audience how to read Tender Buttons. She said a person in love always has a lot of names for the beloved. So a love poem is going to be populated by a lot of nouns, but Stein’s goal was to get beyond the noun, which had no life in it. Celia choses the runaway moniker Aliena because she wants the name to reference her state of being and that would be someone who is alienated. In this case, the name takes on an actionable stance, something that must have caught Stein’s attention.

ROSALIND
But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal
The clownish fool out of your father's court? 
Would he not be a comfort to our travel? 
CELIA
He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; 
Leave me alone to woo him. Let's away, 
And get our jewels and our wealth together, 
Devise the fittest time and safest way
To hide us from pursuit that will be made 
After my flight. Now go we in content
To liberty and not to banishment.
Exeunt

ACT II
SCENE I. The Forest of Arden.
Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and two or three Lords, like foresters

DUKE SENIOR
Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods 
More free from peril than the envious court? 
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The seasons' difference, as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind,
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, 
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say
'This is no flattery: these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.'
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life exempt from public haunt
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones and good in every thing.
I would not change it.

By choosing Toklas as her life partner who would help her birth her books, Stein frees herself from the rules established by the Judeo-Christian world she lives in. By stepping outside the societal boundaries, she finds a literary Forest of Arden (or Eden) where she can distinguish herself and exceed what is habitual. Duke Senior provides a model.

AMIENS
Happy is your grace,
That can translate the stubbornness of fortune I
nto so quiet and so sweet a style.
DUKE SENIOR
Come, shall we go and kill us venison?
And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools,
Being native burghers of this desert city,
Should in their own confines with forked heads 
Have their round haunches gored.
First Lord
Indeed, my lord,
The melancholy Jaques grieves at that,
And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp 
Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you. 
To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself
Did steal behind him as he lay along
Under an oak whose antique root peeps out 
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood:
To the which place a poor sequester'd stag, 
That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,
Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord,
The wretched animal heaved forth such groans 
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat 
Almost to bursting, and the big round tears 
Coursed one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, 
Augmenting it with tears.
DUKE SENIOR
But what said Jaques?
Did he not moralize this spectacle?

The situation is that Jaques is lamenting the killing of a buck and the kindly Duke Senior is concerned about what Jaques has to say about his. Spectacle is an important word in Tender Buttons. As previously mentioned, Tender Buttons opens “A kind in glass and a cousin, a spectacle and nothing strange.” The word could be interpreted as a show or wonder but it could also be interpreted as an eyeglass. Spectacle also appears three times in “A chair.”, the 18th subpoem of Tender Buttons “Objects,” which seems to point to Abraham Lincoln’s assassination at Ford’s Theatre, an event in United States history of grave moral import that weighed heavily on the concept of union.

First Lord
O, yes, into a thousand similes.
First, for his weeping into the needless stream;
'Poor deer,' quoth he, 'thou makest a testament
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more
To that which had too much:' then, being there alone, 
Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends,
''Tis right:' quoth he; 'thus misery doth part
The flux of company:' anon a careless herd,
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him
And never stays to greet him; 'Ay' quoth Jaques, 
'Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens;
'Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?'
Thus most invectively he pierceth through
The body of the country, city, court,
Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we
Are mere usurpers, tyrants and what's worse,
To fright the animals and to kill them up
In their assign'd and native dwelling-place.
DUKE SENIOR
And did you leave him in this contemplation? 
Second Lord
We did, my lord, weeping and commenting
Upon the sobbing deer.
DUKE SENIOR
Show me the place:
I love to cope him in these sullen fits,
For then he's full of matter.
First Lord
I'll bring you to him straight.
Exeunt

SCENE II. A room in the palace.
Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords

DUKE FREDERICK
Can it be possible that no man saw them? 
It cannot be: some villains of my court
Are of consent and sufferance in this.

First Lord
I cannot hear of any that did see her.
The ladies, her attendants of her chamber,
Saw her abed, and in the morning early
They found the bed untreasured of their mistress. 
Second Lord
My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft
Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. 
Hisperia, the princess' gentlewoman,
Confesses that she secretly o'erheard
Your daughter and her cousin much commend 
The parts and graces of the wrestler
That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles;
And she believes, wherever they are gone,
That youth is surely in their company.
DUKE FREDERICK
Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither;
If he be absent, bring his brother to me;
I'll make him find him: do this suddenly,
And let not search and inquisition quail
To bring again these foolish runaways.
Exeunt

SCENE III. Before OLIVER'S house.
Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting

ORLANDO
Who's there?
ADAM
What, my young master? O, my gentle master!
O my sweet master! O you memory
Of old Sir Rowland! why, what make you here? 
Why are you virtuous? why do people love you? 
And wherefore are you gentle, strong and valiant? 
Why would you be so fond to overcome
The bonny priser of the humorous duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. 
Know you not, master, to some kind of men 
Their graces serve them but as enemies?
No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master, 
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.
O, what a world is this, when what is comely 
Envenoms him that bears it!

ORLANDO

Why, what's the matter?
ADAM
O unhappy youth!
Come not within these doors; within this roof
The enemy of all your graces lives:
Your brother--no, no brother; yet the son--
Yet not the son, I will not call him son
Of him I was about to call his father--
Hath heard your praises, and this night he means 
To burn the lodging where you use to lie
And you within it: if he fail of that,
He will have other means to cut you off.
I overheard him and his practises.
This is no place; this house is but a butchery: 
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.
ORLANDO
Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? 
ADAM
No matter whither, so you come not here. 
ORLANDO
What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food? 
Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce
A thievish living on the common road?
This I must do, or know not what to do:
Yet this I will not do, do how I can;
I rather will subject me to the malice
Of a diverted blood and bloody brother.
ADAM
But do not so. I have five hundred crowns,
The thrifty hire I saved under your father,
Which I did store to be my foster-nurse
When service should in my old limbs lie lame
And unregarded age in corners thrown:
Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;
And all this I give you. Let me be your servant: 
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty;
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood,
Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility;
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you;
I'll do the service of a younger man

In all your business and necessities.

ORLANDO
O good old man, how well in thee appears 
The constant service of the antique world, 
When service sweat for duty, not for meed! 
Thou art not for the fashion of these times, 
Where none will sweat but for promotion, 
And having that, do choke their service up 
Even with the having: it is not so with thee. 
But, poor old man, thou prunest a rotten tree, 
That cannot so much as a blossom yield
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry
But come thy ways; well go along together, 
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, 
We'll light upon some settled low content. 
ADAM
Master, go on, and I will follow thee,
To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.
From seventeen years till now almost fourscore 
Here lived I, but now live here no more.
At seventeen years many their fortunes seek; 
But at fourscore it is too late a week:
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better 
Than to die well and not my master's debtor.
Exeunt

SCENE IV. The Forest of Arden.
Enter ROSALIND for Ganymede, CELIA for Aliena, and TOUCHSTONE

ROSALIND
O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits!
TOUCHSTONE
I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.
ROSALIND
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!

What Rosalind cum Ganymede wears matters because it imposes on her more courage than she would ordinarily have as a woman wearing a petticoat. Stein may have interpreted this passage by Rosalind in the 9th subpoem of Tender Buttons:

A METHOD OF A CLOAK.

A single climb to a line, a straight exchange to a cane, a desperate adventure and courage and a clock, all this which is a system, which has feeling, which has resignation and success, all makes an attractive black silver.

Therefore the cloak, which may be a cape thrown around the shoulders of man, or a woman, provides a swashbuckling feeling of impenetrability. Stein’s cloak ups the ante on Shakespeare’s doublet, which is a close-fitting jacket without sleeves.

CELIA
I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further.
TOUCHSTONE
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. 
ROSALIND
Well, this is the forest of Arden.
TOUCHSTONE
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.
ROSALIND
Ay, be so, good Touchstone.
Enter CORIN and SILVIUS
Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in 
solemn talk.
CORIN
That is the way to make her scorn you still.
SILVIUS
O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her!
CORIN
I partly guess; for I have loved ere now.
SILVIUS
No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess, 
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover 
As ever sigh'd 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? 
CORIN

Into a thousand that I have forgotten.

SILVIUS
O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily! 
If thou remember'st 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, 
Wearying 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 Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!
Exit
ROSALIND
Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound,
I have by hard adventure found mine own. 
TOUCHSTONE
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 chopt 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. 
ROSALIND
Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of.
TOUCHSTONE
Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I 
break my shins against it.
ROSALIND
Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion
Is much upon my fashion.
TOUCHSTONE
And mine; but it grows something stale with me. 
CELIA
I pray you, one of you question yond man
If he for gold will give us any food:
I faint almost to death.
TOUCHSTONE
Holla, you clown!

ROSALIND

Peace, fool: he's not thy kinsman.
CORIN
Who calls?
TOUCHSTONE
Your betters, sir.
CORIN
Else are they very wretched.
ROSALIND
Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend.
CORIN
And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.
ROSALIND
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 oppress'd 
And faints for succor.
CORIN
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. 
ROSALIND
What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture? 
CORIN
That young swain that you saw here but erewhile, 
That little cares for buying any thing.
ROSALIND
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.
CELIA
And we will mend thy wages. I like this place. And willingly could waste my time in it.
CORIN
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.
Exeunt

SCENE V. The Forest.
Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and others

SONG.
AMIENS
Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither: 
Here shall he see No enemy
But winter and rough weather.

JAQUES
More, more, I prithee, more.
AMIENS
It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques.
JAQUES
I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck
melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee, more.
AMIENS
My voice is ragged: I know I cannot please you. 
JAQUES
I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to
sing. Come, more; another stanzo: call you 'em stanzos? 
AMIENS
What you will, Monsieur Jaques.
JAQUES
Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me
nothing. Will you sing?

Jaques question about what to call the verses of Amiens’ song must have interested Stein since Tender Buttons is very concerned with form and also how to overcome the problem of static nouns. The form of Tender Buttons appears more as paragraphs than verse stanzas. It’s a form that Arthur Rimbaud used in prose poems Les fleurs du mal.

AMIENS
More at your request than to please myself.
JAQUES
Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you;
but that they call compliment is like the encounter
of two dog-apes, and when a man thanks me heartily, 
methinks I have given him a penny and he renders me 
the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will
not, hold your tongues.

In Shakespeare’s lexicon dog-apes are baboons (he saw the baboon’s face as a dog face). In Tender Buttons, Stein puts dog, monkey, and donkey together, which seems nonsensical until considering this passage by Jaques.

A DOG.

A little monkey goes like a donkey that means to say that means to say that more sighs last goes. Leave with it. A little monkey goes like a donkey.

A WHITE HUNTER.

A white hunter is nearly crazy.

In “Objects” subpoem 50, “A dog.”, Stein’s scenario creates a little circus entertainment that precedes subpoem 51 where a white hunter loses his sanity momentarily as does Orlando who assails Jaques with his sword because Orlando is trying to get food for his man servant Adam.

AMIENS
Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the while; the 
duke will drink under this tree. He hath been all 
this day to look you.
JAQUES
And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is
too disputable for my company: I think of as many 
matters as he, but I give heaven thanks and make no 
boast of them. Come, warble, come.

SONG.
Who doth ambition shun
All together here
And loves to live i' the sun,
Seeking the food he eats
And pleased with what he gets,
Come hither, come hither, come hither:

Here shall he see No enemy

But winter and rough weather.
JAQUES
I'll give you a verse to this note that I made 
yesterday in despite of my invention. 
AMIENS
And I'll sing it.
JAQUES
Thus it goes:--
If it do come to pass
That any man turn ass,
Leaving his wealth and ease,
A stubborn will to please,
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame:
Here shall he see
Gross fools as he,
An if he will come to me.
AMIENS
What's that 'ducdame'?
JAQUES
'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a 
circle. I'll go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, I'll 
rail against all the first-born of Egypt.

These comments by the melancholic Jaques foreshadows Orlando making an ass of himself by threatening Jaques with a sword. The reality is that the camp of men led by Duke Senior are sympathetic to Orlando’s need to get food for his man servant Adam and himself. With the word ass, Shakespeare completes Stein’s dog-monkey-donkey connection seen in subpoem 50 of Tender Buttons “Objects.”

While Stein is accused of writing nonsense, she did not use words like ducdame, which required explanation. What she did was take ordinary words and put them into a new grammatical structure in order to effect more liveliness. For example, the title of “Objects” subpoem 57, “It was a black, black took.” takes the past tense of the verb to take (took) and turns it into a noun that still seems to retain the action of the verb it comes from. In The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, Stein wrote (in Alice’s voice) that while she tried her hand at inventing words: “The use of fabricated words offended her, it was an escape into imitative emotionalism."

Stein decided when she was at Harvard that her religious practice (in whatever form she was observant as an assimilated Jew) was not for public knowledge. However, Jaques’ line “I'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt,” which refers to the tenth plague the Hebrew god enacted against Pharaoh’s people for not releasing the Jews from slavery, set an example for Stein—giving her permission to point to Jewish practice and traditions that might serve her purpose. For example, one way of viewing her system to pointing is to literally see it as the implement known as a yad (a pointer) used to keep one’s place while reading the sacred text of Torah. Surely if Shakespeare could make veiled reference to Jewish practice so could Stein.

AMIENS
And I'll go seek the duke: his banquet is prepared.
Exeunt severally

SCENE VI. The forest.
Enter ORLANDO and ADAM

ADAM
Dear master, I can go no further. O, I die for food! 
Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, 
kind master.
ORLANDO
Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? Live 
a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little.
If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, I
will either be food for it or bring it for food to
thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers. 
For my sake be comfortable; hold death awhile at
the arm's end: I will here be with thee presently;
and if I bring thee not something to eat, I will
give thee leave to die: but if thou diest before I
come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said!
thou lookest cheerly, and I'll be with thee quickly.
Yet thou liest in the bleak air: come, I will bear
thee to some shelter; and thou shalt not die for
lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this
desert. Cheerly, good Adam!
Exeunt

SCENE VII. The forest.
A table set out. Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and Lords like outlaws

DUKE SENIOR
I think he be transform'd into a beast; 
For I can no where find him like a man. 
First Lord

My lord, he is but even now gone hence: 
Here was he merry, hearing of a song. 
DUKE SENIOR

If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
We shall have shortly discord in the spheres. 
Go, seek him: tell him I would speak with him.
Enter JAQUES
First Lord
He saves my labour by his own approach.
DUKE SENIOR
Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this,
That your poor friends must woo your company? 
What, you look merrily!
JAQUES
A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the forest,
A motley fool; a miserable world!
As I do live by food, I met a fool
Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, 
And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms and yet a motley fool.
'Good morrow, fool,' quoth I. 'No, sir,' quoth he, '
Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune:' 
And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock:
Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags: 
'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep-contemplative,
And I did laugh sans intermission
An hour by his dial. O noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.
DUKE SENIOR
What fool is this?
JAQUES
O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier,
And says, if ladies be but young and fair,
They have the gift to know it: and in his brain, 
Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit

After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd 
With observation, the which he vents

In mangled forms. O that I were a fool!
I am ambitious for a motley coat.
DUKE SENIOR
Thou shalt have one.
JAQUES
It is my only suit;
Provided that you weed your better judgments
Of all opinion that grows rank in them
That I am wise. I must have liberty
Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please; for so fools have;
And they that are most galled with my folly,
They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so? 
The 'why' is plain as way to parish church:
He that a fool doth very wisely hit
Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not,
The wise man's folly is anatomized
Even by the squandering glances of the fool. 
Invest me in my motley; give me leave
To speak my mind, and I will through and through 
Cleanse the foul body of the infected world,
If they will patiently receive my medicine.


Gertrude Stein left medical school without her degree but she was forever asked to render medical advice (for example, for her brother Leo) but what she chose to do was speak her mind by writing. Some of this comes through in "Glazed glitter.",  the second subpoem of Tender Buttons: 

...sometime there is breath and there will be a sinecure and charming very charming is that clean and cleansing. Certainly glittering is handsome and convincing. 

There is no gratitude in mercy and in medicine. ...

Like Jaques, Stein expressed her doubts about herself but she wanted to be a chance to excel.

DUKE SENIOR
Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do. 
JAQUES
What, for a counter, would I do but good?
DUKE SENIOR
Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin:
For thou thyself hast been a libertine,
As sensual as the brutish sting itself;
And all the embossed sores and headed evils, 
That thou with licence of free foot hast caught, 
Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. 
JAQUES
Why, who cries out on pride,
That can therein tax any private party?
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,
Till that the weary very means do ebb?
What woman in the city do I name,
When that I say the city-woman bears
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?
Who can come in and say that I mean her,
When such a one as she such is her neighbour?

Or what is he of basest function

That says his bravery is not of my cost,
Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits
His folly to the mettle of my speech?
There then; how then? what then? Let me see wherein 
My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right,
Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free,
Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies,
Unclaim'd of any man. But who comes here?
Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn
ORLANDO
Forbear, and eat no more.
JAQUES
Why, I have eat none yet.
ORLANDO
Nor shalt not, till necessity be served.
JAQUES
Of what kind should this cock come of?
DUKE SENIOR
Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress, 
Or else a rude despiser of good manners, 
That in civility thou seem'st so empty? 
ORLANDO
You touch'd my vein at first: the thorny point 
Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show 
Of smooth civility: yet am I inland bred
And know some nurture. But forbear, I say: 
He dies that touches any of this fruit
Till I and my affairs are answered.
JAQUES
An you will not be answered with reason, I must die.
DUKE SENIOR
What would you have? Your gentleness shall force 
More than your force move us to gentleness. 
ORLANDO
I almost die for food; and let me have it.
DUKE SENIOR
Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.
ORLANDO
Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you:
I thought that all things had been savage here; 
And therefore put I on the countenance
Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are 
That in this desert inaccessible,

Under the shade of melancholy boughs,

Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time
If ever you have look'd on better days,
If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church,
If ever sat at any good man's feast,
If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear
And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied,
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be:
In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword. 
DUKE SENIOR
True is it that we have seen better days,
And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church 
And sat at good men's feasts and wiped our eyes 
Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd:
And therefore sit you down in gentleness
And take upon command what help we have 
That to your wanting may be minister'd. 
ORLANDO
Then but forbear your food a little while,
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn
And give it food. There is an old poor man,
Who after me hath many a weary step
Limp'd in pure love: till he be first sufficed, 
Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger,
I will not touch a bit.
DUKE SENIOR
Go find him out,
And we will nothing waste till you return. 
ORLANDO
I thank ye; and be blest for your good comfort!
Exit
DUKE SENIOR
Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy:
This wide and universal theatre
Presents more woeful pageants than the scene 
Wherein we play in.
JAQUES
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.
And then the whining school-boy, 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 honour, 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 slipper'd 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.
Re-enter ORLANDO, with ADAM
DUKE SENIOR
Welcome. Set down your venerable burthen, 
And let him feed.
ORLANDO
I thank you most for him.
ADAM
So had you need:
I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
DUKE SENIOR
Welcome; fall to: I will not trouble you
As yet, to question you about your fortunes.
Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing. 

SONG.
AMIENS
Blow, blow, thou winter wind.
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly: 
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:

Then, heigh-ho, the holly!

This life is most jolly.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 
That dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remember'd not.
Heigh-ho! sing, & c.


DUKE SENIOR
If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son,
As you have whisper'd faithfully you were,
And as mine eye doth his effigies witness
Most truly limn'd and living in your face,
Be truly welcome hither: I am the duke
That loved your father: the residue of your fortune, 
Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man,
Thou art right welcome as thy master is.
Support him by the arm. Give me your hand,
And let me all your fortunes understand.
Exeunt

ACT III
SCENE I. A room in the palace.
Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, and OLIVER

DUKE FREDERICK
Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be: 
But were I not the better part made mercy,
I should not seek an absent argument
Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it: 
Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is;
Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living 
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more 
To seek a living in our territory.
Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine 
Worth seizure do we seize into our hands,
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brothers mouth 
Of what we think against thee.
OLIVER
O that your highness knew my heart in this!
I never loved my brother in my life.
DUKE FREDERICK
More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors;

And let my officers of such a nature

Make an extent upon his house and lands: 
Do this expediently and turn him going.
Exeunt

SCENE II. The forest.
Enter ORLANDO, with a paper

ORLANDO
Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love: 
And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey 
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, 
Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sway.
O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books
And in their barks my thoughts I'll character; 
That every eye which in this forest looks
Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where.
Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree
The fair, the chaste and unexpressive she.
Exit
Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE
CORIN
And how like you this shepherd's life, Master Touchstone?
TOUCHSTONE
Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good 
life, but in respect that it is a shepherd's life,

it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I

like it very well; but in respect it is

private, it is a very vile life. Now, in respect it 
is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in 

respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. Asis it a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; 
but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much 

against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd?

One of the approaches Stein takes in writing Tender Buttons is to play against how a writer lays down words on the page. In a way, Touchstone’s speech is like call and response. He weighs one thought against another by repeating these two counter-balancing phrases: in respect and it is. Moreover the repetition is varied by sometimes using two instances of it is in a row, by adding not to it is, or by inverting it is to is it.

In the subpoem “Roastbeef.” of Tender Buttons “Food,” Stein repeats the word considering and the phrase there is no in much the same way Touchstone’s speech unfolds.

Considering the circumstances there is no occasion for a reduction, considering that there is no pealing there is no occasion for an obligation, considering that there is no outrage there is no necessity for any reparation, considering that there is no particle sodden there is no occasion for deliberation. Considering everything and which way the turn is tending, considering everything why is there no restraint, considering everything what makes the place settle and the plate distinguish some specialties. The whole thing is not understood and this is not strange considering that there is no education, this is not strange because having that certainly does show the difference in cutting, it shows that when there is turning there is no distress.

Like Shakespeare, Stein varies her repetition such that considering might be repeated without the counter-balancing there is no, there is no is inverted once to is there no, and the no is dropped in one instance of there is.

CORIN
No more but that I know the more one sickens the 
worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, 
means and content is without three good friends; 
that the property of rain is to wet and fire to
burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep, and that a
great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that
he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may
complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred. 
TOUCHSTONE
Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in 
court, shepherd?
CORIN
No, truly.
TOUCHSTONE
Then thou art damned.
CORIN
Nay, I hope.
TOUCHSTONE
Truly, thou art damned like an ill-roasted egg, all 
on one side.
CORIN
For not being at court? Your reason. 
TOUCHSTONE
Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never sawest 
good manners; if thou never sawest good manners,

then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is 
sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous

state, shepherd.
CORIN
Not a whit, Touchstone: those that are good manners 
at the court are as ridiculous in the country as the 
behavior of the country is most mockable at the 
court. You told me you salute not at the court, but 
you kiss your hands: that courtesy would be 
uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds. 
TOUCHSTONE
Instance, briefly; come, instance.
CORIN
Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their
fells, you know, are greasy.
TOUCHSTONE
Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? and is not
the grease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of
a man? Shallow, shallow. A better instance, I say; come. 
CORIN
Besides, our hands are hard.
TOUCHSTONE
Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again. 
A more sounder instance, come.
CORIN
And they are often tarred over with the surgery of 
our sheep: and would you have us kiss tar? The 
courtier's hands are perfumed with civet. 
TOUCHSTONE
Most shallow man! thou worms-meat, in respect of a 
good piece of flesh indeed! Learn of the wise, and 
perpend: civet is of a baser birth than tar, the
very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd. 
CORIN
You have too courtly a wit for me: I'll rest.
TOUCHSTONE
Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow man! 
God make incision in thee! thou art raw.
CORIN
Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn that I eat, get
that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's 
happiness, glad of other men's good, content with my 
harm, and the greatest of my pride is to see my ewes 
graze and my lambs suck.
TOUCHSTONE
That is another simple sin in you, to bring the ewes

and the rams together and to offer to get your

living by the copulation of cattle; to be bawd to a 
bell-wether, and to betray a she-lamb of a 
twelvemonth to a crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, 
out of all reasonable match. If thou beest not 
damned for this, the devil himself will have no 
shepherds; I cannot see else how thou shouldst 
'scape.
CORIN
Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother.
Enter ROSALIND, with a paper, reading
ROSALIND
From the east to western Ind,
No jewel is like Rosalind.
Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
Through all the world bears Rosalind.
All the pictures fairest lined
Are but black to Rosalind.
Let no fair be kept in mind
But the fair of Rosalind.
TOUCHSTONE
I'll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners and 
suppers and sleeping-hours excepted: it is the 
right butter-women's rank to market.
ROSALIND
Out, fool!
TOUCHSTONE
For a taste:
If a hart do lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalind.
If the cat will after kind,
So be sure will Rosalind.
Winter garments must be lined,
So must slender Rosalind.
They that reap must sheaf and bind;
Then to cart with Rosalind.
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,
Such a nut is Rosalind.
He that sweetest rose will find
Must find love's prick and Rosalind.
This is the very false gallop of verses: why do you 
infect yourself with them?
ROSALIND
Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree.

TOUCHSTONE

Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.
ROSALIND
I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it
with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit
i' the country; for you'll be rotten ere you be half 
ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar. 
TOUCHSTONE
You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the 
forest judge.
Enter CELIA, with a writing
ROSALIND
Peace! Here comes my sister, reading: stand aside.
CELIA
[Reads]
Why should this a desert be?
For it is unpeopled? No:
Tongues I'll hang on every tree,
That shall civil sayings show:
Some, how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage,
That the stretching of a span
Buckles in his sum of age;
Some, of violated vows
'Twixt the souls of friend and friend:
But upon the fairest boughs,
Or at every sentence end,
Will I Rosalinda write,
Teaching all that read to know
The quintessence of every sprite
Heaven would in little show.
Therefore Heaven Nature charged
That one body should be fill'd
With all graces wide-enlarged:
Nature presently distill'd
Helen's cheek, but not her heart,
Cleopatra's majesty,
Atalanta's better part,
Sad Lucretia's modesty.
Thus Rosalind of many parts
By heavenly synod was devised,
Of many faces, eyes and hearts,
To have the touches dearest prized.
Heaven would that she these gifts should have,

And I to live and die her slave.

ROSALIND
O most gentle pulpiter! what tedious homily of love
have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never
cried 'Have patience, good people!'
CELIA
How now! back, friends! Shepherd, go off a little.
Go with him, sirrah.
TOUCHSTONE
Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat;
though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage.
Exeunt CORIN and TOUCHSTONE
CELIA
Didst thou hear these verses?
ROSALIND
O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of 
them had in them more feet than the verses would bear. 
CELIA
That's no matter: the feet might bear the verses. 
ROSALIND
Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear 
themselves without the verse and therefore stood 
lamely in the verse.
CELIA
But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name 
should be hanged and carved upon these trees? 
ROSALIND
I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder
before you came; for look here what I found on a 
palm-tree. I was never so be-rhymed since
Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, which I
can hardly remember.
CELIA
Trow you who hath done this?
ROSALIND
Is it a man?
CELIA
And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. 
Change you colour?
ROSALIND
I prithee, who?
CELIA
O Lord, Lord! it is a hard matter for friends to
meet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes

and so encounter.

ROSALIND
Nay, but who is it?
CELIA
Is it possible?
ROSALIND
Nay, I prithee now with most petitionary vehemence, 
tell me who it is.
CELIA
O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful 
wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that, 
out of all hooping!
ROSALIND
Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I am 
caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in 
my disposition? One inch of delay more is a 
South-sea of discovery; I prithee, tell me who is it 
quickly, and speak apace. I would thou couldst 
stammer, that thou mightst pour this concealed man 
out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow- 
mouthed bottle, either too much at once, or none at 
all. I prithee, take the cork out of thy mouth that
may drink thy tidings.
CELIA
So you may put a man in your belly.
ROSALIND
Is he of God's making? What manner of man? Is his 
head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard?
CELIA
Nay, he hath but a little beard.
ROSALIND
Why, God will send more, if the man will be 
thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if 
thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. 
CELIA
It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler's 
heels and your heart both in an instant.
ROSALIND
Nay, but the devil take mocking: speak, sad brow and 
true maid.
CELIA
I' faith, coz, 'tis he.
ROSALIND
Orlando?
CELIA
Orlando.

ROSALIND

Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and 
hose? What did he when thou sawest him? What said 
he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes 
him here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? 
How parted he with thee? and when shalt thou see 
him again? Answer me in one word.
CELIA
You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth first: 'tis a 
word too great for any mouth of this age's size. To 
say ay and no to these particulars is more than to 
answer in a catechism.
ROSALIND
But doth he know that I am in this forest and in
man's apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the
day he wrestled?
CELIA
It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the 
propositions of a lover; but take a taste of my
finding him, and relish it with good observance.
I found him under a tree, like a dropped acorn. 
ROSALIND
It may well be called Jove's tree, when it drops
forth such fruit.
CELIA
Give me audience, good madam.
ROSALIND
Proceed.
CELIA
There lay he, stretched along, like a wounded knight. 
ROSALIND
Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well
becomes the ground.
CELIA
Cry 'holla' to thy tongue, I prithee; it curvets 
unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter. 
ROSALIND
O, ominous! he comes to kill my heart.
CELIA
I would sing my song without a burden: thou bringest 
me out of tune.
ROSALIND
Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must 
speak. Sweet, say on.
CELIA
You bring me out. Soft! comes he not here?

Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES

ROSALIND
'Tis he: slink by, and note him.
JAQUES
I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had 
as lief have been myself alone.
ORLANDO
And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you 
too for your society.
JAQUES
God be wi' you: let's meet as little as we can.
ORLANDO
I do desire we may be better strangers.
JAQUES
I pray you, mar no more trees with writing l
ove-songs in their barks.
ORLANDO
I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading 
them ill-favouredly.
JAQUES
Rosalind is your love's name?
ORLANDO
Yes, just.
JAQUES
I do not like her name.
ORLANDO
There was no thought of pleasing you when she was 
christened.
JAQUES
What stature is she of?
ORLANDO
Just as high as my heart.
JAQUES
You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been 
acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conned them 
out of rings?
ORLANDO
Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, from 
whence you have studied your questions. 
JAQUES
You have a nimble wit: I think 'twas made of 
Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me? and 
we two will rail against our mistress the world and 
all our misery.

ORLANDO

I will chide no breather in the world but myself, 
against whom I know most faults.
JAQUES
The worst fault you have is to be in love. 
ORLANDO
'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue.
I am weary of you.
JAQUES
By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found 
you.
ORLANDO
He is drowned in the brook: look but in, and you 
shall see him.
JAQUES
There I shall see mine own figure.
ORLANDO
Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher.
JAQUES
I'll tarry no longer with you: farewell, good
Signior Love.
ORLANDO
I am glad of your departure: adieu, good Monsieur 
Melancholy.
Exit JAQUES
ROSALIND
[Aside to CELIA] I will speak to him, like a saucy 
lackey and under that habit play the knave with him. 
Do you hear, forester?
ORLANDO
Very well: what would you?
ROSALIND
I pray you, what is't o'clock?
ORLANDO
You should ask me what time o' day: there's no clock 
in the forest.
ROSALIND
Then there is no true lover in the forest; else
sighing every minute and groaning every hour would 
detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a clock. 
ORLANDO
And why not the swift foot of Time? had not that 
been as proper?
ROSALIND

By no means, sir: Time travels in divers paces with 
divers persons. I'll tell you who Time ambles 
withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops 
withal and who he stands still withal. 

Stein is known for her repetition and for her connection to the concept of time. Take,
 for example, this passage from "Roastbeef.":

All the time that there is use there is use and any time there is a surface there is a surface, and every time there is an exception there is an exception and every time there is a division there is a dividing. Any time there is a surface there is a surface and every time there is a suggestion there is a suggestion and every time there is silence there is silence and every time that is languid there is that there then and not oftener, not always, not particular, tender and changing and external and central and surrounded and singular and simple and the same...

While Orlando says there is no clock in the forest and Rosalind counters if there is no clock there is no true lover who would keep time by his lovesick sounds. Rosalind also says time is a perception of the person. For Stein, who was relationship oriented and trained by the best philosopher in America (William James) this passage from Shakespeare gave her a lot to think about.

ORLANDO
I prithee, who doth he trot withal?
ROSALIND
Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the 
contract of her marriage and the day it is 
solemnized: if the interim be but a se'nnight,
Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of 
seven year.
ORLANDO
Who ambles Time withal?
ROSALIND
With a priest that lacks Latin and a rich man that
hath not the gout, for the one sleeps easily because
he cannot study, and the other lives merrily because
he feels no pain, the one lacking the burden of lean
and wasteful learning, the other knowing no burden
of heavy tedious penury; these Time ambles withal. 
ORLANDO
Who doth he gallop withal?
ROSALIND
With a thief to the gallows, for though he go as
softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there. 
ORLANDO
Who stays it still withal?
ROSALIND
With lawyers in the vacation, for they sleep between
term and term and then they perceive not how Time moves. 
ORLANDO
Where dwell you, pretty youth?
ROSALIND
With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the
skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.
ORLANDO
Are you native of this place?
ROSALIND
As the cony that you see dwell where she is kindled. 
ORLANDO
Your accent is something finer than you could
purchase in so removed a dwelling.
ROSALIND
I have been told so of many: but indeed an old
religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was

in his youth an inland man; one that knew courtship 
too well, for there he fell in love. I have heard

him read many lectures against it, and I thank God 
I am not a woman, to be touched with so many 
giddy offences as he hath generally taxed their 
whole sex withal.
ORLANDO
Can you remember any of the principal evils that he 
laid to the charge of women?
ROSALIND
There were none principal; they were all like one 
another as half-pence are, every one fault seeming 
monstrous till his fellow fault came to match it. 
ORLANDO
I prithee, recount some of them.
ROSALIND
No, I will not cast away my physic but on those that 
are sick. There is a man haunts the forest, that
abuses our young plants with carving 'Rosalind' on 
their barks; hangs odes upon hawthorns and elegies 
on brambles, all, forsooth, deifying the name of 
Rosalind: if I could meet that fancy-monger I would 
give him some good counsel, for he seems to have the 
quotidian of love upon him.
ORLANDO
I am he that is so love-shaked: I pray you tell me 
your remedy.
ROSALIND
There is none of my uncle's marks upon you: he 
taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage 
of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner. 
ORLANDO
What were his marks?
ROSALIND
A lean cheek, which you have not, a blue eye and 
sunken, which you have not, an unquestionable 
spirit, which you have not, a beard neglected,
which you have not; but I pardon you for that, for 
simply your having in beard is a younger brother's 
revenue: then your hose should be ungartered, your 
bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe 
untied and every thing about you demonstrating a 
careless desolation; but you are no such man; you 
are rather point-device in your accoutrements as 
loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other. 
ORLANDO

Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love.

ROSALIND
Me believe it! you may as soon make her that you 
love believe it; which, I warrant, she is apter to
do than to confess she does: that is one of the 
points in the which women still give the lie to
their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he
that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind 
is so admired?
ORLANDO
I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of
Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. 
ROSALIND
But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak? 
ORLANDO
Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much. 
ROSALIND
Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, deserves 
as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do: and 
the reason why they are not so punished and cured 
is, that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers
are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel. 
ORLANDO
Did you ever cure any so?
ROSALIND
Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to imagine me 
his love, his mistress; and I set him every day to
woo me: at which time would I, being but a moonish 
youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing 
and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, 
inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles, for every 
passion something and for no passion truly any
thing, as boys and women are for the most part
cattle of this colour; would now like him, now loathe 
him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep 
for him, then spit at him; that I drave my suitor
from his mad humour of love to a living humour of 
madness; which was, to forswear the full stream of 
the world, and to live in a nook merely monastic.
And thus I cured him; and this way will I take upon 
me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's 
heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in't. 

Washing and cleaning (or cleansing) show up early on in the Objects section of Tender Buttons. For example, this passage from "Glazed glitter.":

...But there is, there is that hope and that interpretation and sometime, surely any is unwelcome, sometime there is breath and there will be a sinecure and charming very charming is that clean and cleansing. Certainly glittering is handsome and convincing.

There is no gratitude in mercy and in medicine. There can be breakages in Japanese. That is no programme. That is no color chosen. It was chosen yesterday, that showed spitting and perhaps washing and polishing. 

The exchange between the disguised Rosalind and Orlando plays right into Stein's psyche with the talk earlier of not casting away her medical skills (physic) combined with the service of cleaning. Stein also picks up on the color and animal details. through out Tender Buttons.

ORLANDO
I would not be cured, youth.
ROSALIND
I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind

and come every day to my cote and woo me.

ORLANDO
Now, by the faith of my love, I will: tell me
where it is.
ROSALIND
Go with me to it and I'll show it you and by the way 
you shall tell me where in the forest you live.
Will you go?
ORLANDO
With all my heart, good youth.
ROSALIND
Nay you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will you go?
Exeunt

SCENE III. The forest.
Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY; JAQUES behind

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 thatched 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.


The great reckoning in a little room versus simple understanding plays out in Rooms, the third section of Tender Buttons. This is an intuitive thought that will play out as more study of Tender Buttons is done.

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 swearest 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. 

This passage might explain why subpoems like Roastbeef. refer to chicken. Stein might be punning foul to fowl. Here is stanza 30:

To bury a slender chicken, to raise an old feather, to surround a garland and to bake a pole splinter, to suggest a repose and to settle simply, to surrender one another, to succeed saving simpler, to satisfy a singularity and not to be blinder, to sugar nothing darker and to read redder, to have the color better, to sort out dinner, to remain together, to surprise no sinner, to curve nothing sweeter, to continue thinner, to increase in resting recreation to design string not dimmer. 

This stanza also address sugar in which Shakespeare couples honesty (honey) with beauty (sugar) while Stein turns up the heat on sugar (cartelizing occurs).

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?
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 a horn more precious than to

want. Here comes Sir Oliver.

Enter SIR OLIVER MARTEXT
Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met: will you dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel?
SIR OLIVER MARTEXT
Is there none here to give the woman?
TOUCHSTONE
I will not take her on gift of any man.
SIR OLIVER MARTEXT
Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful.
JAQUES
[Advancing]
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
SIR OLIVER MARTEXT
'Tis no matter: ne'er a fantastical knave of them 
all shall flout me out of my calling.
Exit

SCENE IV. The forest.
Enter ROSALIND and CELIA

ROSALIND
Never talk to me; I will weep.
CELIA
Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to consider 
that tears do not become a man.
ROSALIND
But have I not cause to weep?
CELIA
As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep.
ROSALIND
His very hair is of the dissembling colour.
CELIA
Something browner than Judas's marry, his kisses are 
Judas's own children.
ROSALIND
I' faith, his hair is of a good colour.
CELIA
An excellent colour: your chestnut was ever the only colour.
ROSALIND
And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch 
of holy bread.
CELIA
He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana: a nun 
of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; 
the very ice of chastity is in them.
ROSALIND
But why did he swear he would come this morning, and 
comes not?

CELIA

Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him.
ROSALIND
Do you think so?
CELIA
Yes; I think he is not a pick-purse nor a
horse-stealer, but for his verity in love, I do
think him as concave as a covered goblet or a 
worm-eaten nut.
ROSALIND
Not true in love?
CELIA
Yes, when he is in; but I think he is not in. 
ROSALIND
You have heard him swear downright he was.
CELIA
'Was' is not 'is:' besides, the oath of a lover is
no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are
both the confirmer of false reckonings. He attends 
here in the forest on the duke your father. 
ROSALIND
I met the duke yesterday and had much question with 
him: he asked me of what parentage I was; I told
him, of as good as he; so he laughed and let me go. 
But what talk we of fathers, when there is such a 
man as Orlando?
CELIA
O, that's a brave man! he writes brave verses, 
speaks brave words, swears brave oaths and breaks 
them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of
his lover; as a puisny tilter, that spurs his horse
but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble
goose: but all's brave that youth mounts and folly 
guides. Who comes here?
Enter CORIN
CORIN
Mistress and master, you have oft inquired 
After the shepherd that complain'd of love, 
Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, 
Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess 
That was his mistress.
CELIA
Well, and what of him?
CORIN

If you will see a pageant truly play'd, 
Between the pale complexion of true love 
And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, 
Go hence a little and I shall conduct you,

If you will mark it.
ROSALIND
O, come, let us remove:
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. 
Bring us to this sight, and you shall say
I'll prove a busy actor in their play.
Exeunt

SCENE V. Another part of the forest.
Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE

SILVIUS
Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe;
Say that you love me not, but say not so
In bitterness. The common executioner,
Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard, 
Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck
But first begs pardon: will you sterner be 
Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops?
Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, behind
PHEBE
I would not be thy executioner:
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.
Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye:
'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable,
That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, 
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers!
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee: 
Now counterfeit to swoon; why now fall down;
Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame,
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers!
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee: 
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains 
Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,
The cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine eyes,

Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not, 
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes 
That can do hurt.

SILVIUS
O dear Phebe,
If ever,--as that ever may be near,--
You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, 
Then shall you know the wounds invisible
That love's keen arrows make.
PHEBE
But till that time
Come not thou near me: and when that time comes, A
fflict me with thy mocks, pity me not;
As till that time I shall not pity thee.
ROSALIND
And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once,
Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,-- 
As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed--
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of nature's sale-work. 'Od's my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes too!
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it:
'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, 
Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman: 'tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favour'd children:
'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her;
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself: down on your knees,
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love:
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can: you are not for all markets:
Cry the man mercy; love him; take his offer:
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee, shepherd: fare you well.
PHEBE
Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year together:

I had rather hear you chide than this man woo.

ROSALIND
He's fallen in love with your foulness and she'll
fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as
she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce her 
with bitter words. Why look you so upon me? 
PHEBE
For no ill will I bear you.
ROSALIND
I pray you, do not fall in love with me,
For I am falser than vows made in wine:
Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house, 
'Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by.
Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply her hard.
Come, sister. Shepherdess, look on him better, 
And be not proud: though all the world could see, 
None could be so abused in sight as he.
Come, to our flock.
Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA and CORIN
PHEBE
Dead Shepherd, now I find thy saw of might, 
'Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?' 
SILVIUS
Sweet Phebe,--
PHEBE
Ha, what say'st thou, Silvius?
SILVIUS
Sweet Phebe, pity me.
PHEBE
Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.
SILVIUS
Wherever sorrow is, relief would be:
If you do sorrow at my grief in love,
By giving love your sorrow and my grief 
Were both extermined.
PHEBE
Thou hast my love: is not that neighbourly? 
SILVIUS
I would have you.
PHEBE
Why, that were covetousness.
Silvius, the time was that I hated thee,
And yet it is not that I bear thee love;
But since that thou canst talk of love so well,

Thy company, which erst was irksome to me,

I will endure, and I'll employ thee too:
But do not look for further recompense
Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd. 
SILVIUS
So holy and so perfect is my love,
And I in such a poverty of grace,
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop
To glean the broken ears after the man
That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then
A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon.
PHEBE
Know'st now the youth that spoke to me erewhile? 
SILVIUS
Not very well, but I have met him oft;
And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds
That the old carlot once was master of.
PHEBE
Think not I love him, though I ask for him:
'Tis but a peevish boy; yet he talks well;
But what care I for words? yet words do well
When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. 
It is a pretty youth: not very pretty:
But, sure, he's proud, and yet his pride becomes him: 
He'll make a proper man: the best thing in him
Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue
Did make offence his eye did heal it up.
He is not very tall; yet for his years he's tall:
His leg is but so so; and yet 'tis well:
There was a pretty redness in his lip,
A little riper and more lusty red
Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference 
Between the constant red and mingled damask. 
There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him 
In parcels as I did, would have gone near
To fall in love with him; but, for my part,
I love him not nor hate him not; and yet
I have more cause to hate him than to love him:
For what had he to do to chide at me?
He said mine eyes were black and my hair black: 
And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me:
I marvel why I answer'd not again:
But that's all one; omittance is no quittance.
I'll write to him a very taunting letter,
And thou shalt bear it: wilt thou, Silvius?
SILVIUS

Phebe, with all my heart.

PHEBE
I'll write it straight;
The matter's in my head and in my heart: 
I will be bitter with him and passing short. 
Go with me, Silvius.
Exeunt

ACT IV
SCENE I. The forest.

Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and JAQUES
JAQUES
I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted 
with thee.
ROSALIND
They say you are a melancholy fellow.
JAQUES
I am so; I do love it better than laughing.
ROSALIND
Those that are in extremity of either are abominable 
fellows and betray themselves to every modern 
censure worse than drunkards.
JAQUES
Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing.
ROSALIND
Why then, 'tis good to be a post.
JAQUES
I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is 
emulation, nor the musician's, which is fantastical,
nor the courtier's, which is proud, nor the
soldier's, which is ambitious, nor the lawyer's,
which is politic, nor the lady's, which is nice, nor
the lover's, which is all these: but it is a
melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, 
extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry's 
contemplation of my travels, in which my often 
rumination wraps me m a most humorous sadness. 
ROSALIND
A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to 
be sad: I fear you have sold your own lands to see 
other men's; then, to have seen much and to have 
nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands. 
JAQUES

Yes, I have gained my experience.

ROSALIND
And your experience makes you sad: I had rather have 
a fool to make me merry than experience to make me 
sad; and to travel for it too!
Enter ORLANDO
ORLANDO
Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind!
JAQUES
Nay, then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank verse.
Exit
ROSALIND
Farewell, Monsieur Traveller: look you lisp and
wear strange suits, disable all the benefits of your
own country, be out of love with your nativity and
almost chide God for making you that countenance you 
are, or I will scarce think you have swam in a
gondola. Why, how now, Orlando! where have you been 
all this while? You a lover! An you serve me such 
another trick, never come in my sight more.
ORLANDO
My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise. 
ROSALIND
Break an hour's promise in love! He that will
divide a minute into a thousand parts and break but
a part of the thousandth part of a minute in the
affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid
hath clapped him o' the shoulder, but I'll warrant
him heart-whole.
ORLANDO
Pardon me, dear Rosalind.
ROSALIND
Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight: I 
had as lief be wooed of a snail.
ORLANDO
Of a snail?
ROSALIND
Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he
carries his house on his head; a better jointure,
I think, than you make a woman: besides he brings
his destiny with him.
ORLANDO

What's that?

ROSALIND
Why, horns, which such as you are fain to be
beholding to your wives for: but he comes armed in
his fortune and prevents the slander of his wife.
ORLANDO
Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is virtuous. 
ROSALIND
And I am your Rosalind.
CELIA
It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a
Rosalind of a better leer than you.
ROSALIND
Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday
humour and like enough to consent. What would you
say to me now, an I were your very very Rosalind? 
ORLANDO
I would kiss before I spoke.
ROSALIND
Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were 
gravelled for lack of matter, you might take
occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are
out, they will spit; and for lovers lacking--God
warn us!--matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.
ORLANDO
How if the kiss be denied?
ROSALIND
Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter. 
ORLANDO
Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress? 
ROSALIND
Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress, or
I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.
ORLANDO
What, of my suit?
ROSALIND
Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit.
Am not I your Rosalind?
ORLANDO
I take some joy to say you are, because I would be
talking of her.
ROSALIND
Well in her person I say I will not have you.
ORLANDO
Then in mine own person I die.
ROSALIND

No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is

almost six thousand years old, and in all this time 
there was not any man died in his own person, 
videlicit, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains 
dashed out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he 
could to die before, and he is one of the patterns
of love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair 
year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had not been 
for a hot midsummer night; for, good youth, he went 
but forth to wash him in the Hellespont and being 
taken with the cramp was drowned and the foolish 
coroners of that age found it was 'Hero of Sestos.'
But these are all lies: men have died from time to
time and worms have eaten them, but not for love. 
ORLANDO
I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind,
for, I protest, her frown might kill me.
ROSALIND
By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, now
I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on 
disposition, and ask me what you will. I will grant
it.
ORLANDO
Then love me, Rosalind.
ROSALIND
Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all. 
ORLANDO
And wilt thou have me?
ROSALIND
Ay, and twenty such.
ORLANDO
What sayest thou?
ROSALIND
Are you not good?
ORLANDO
I hope so.
ROSALIND
Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing? 
Come, sister, you shall be the priest and marry us. 
Give me your hand, Orlando. What do you say, sister? 
ORLANDO
Pray thee, marry us.
CELIA
I cannot say the words.
ROSALIND
You must begin, 'Will you, Orlando--'

CELIA

Go to. Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind?
ORLANDO
I will.
ROSALIND
Ay, but when?
ORLANDO
Why now; as fast as she can marry us.
ROSALIND
Then you must say 'I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.'
ORLANDO
I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.
ROSALIND
I might ask you for your commission; but I do take 
thee, Orlando, for my husband: there's a girl goes 
before the priest; and certainly a woman's thought 
runs before her actions.
ORLANDO
So do all thoughts; they are winged.
ROSALIND
Now tell me how long you would have her after you 
have possessed her.
ORLANDO
For ever and a day.
ROSALIND
Say 'a day,' without the 'ever.' No, no, Orlando;
men are April when they woo, December when they wed: 
maids are May when they are maids, but the sky 
changes when they are wives. I will be more jealous
of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen,
more clamorous than a parrot against rain, more 
new-fangled than an ape, more giddy in my desires
than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like Diana
in the fountain, and I will do that when you are
disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and
that when thou art inclined to sleep.
ORLANDO
But will my Rosalind do so?
ROSALIND
By my life, she will do as I do.
ORLANDO
O, but she is wise.
ROSALIND
Or else she could not have the wit to do this: the
wiser, the waywarder: make the doors upon a woman's 
wit and it will out at the casement; shut that and

'twill out at the key-hole; stop that, 'twill fly

with the smoke out at the chimney.
ORLANDO
A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say 
'Wit, whither wilt?'
ROSALIND
Nay, you might keep that cheque for it till you met 
your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed. 
ORLANDO
And what wit could wit have to excuse that? 
ROSALIND
Marry, to say she came to seek you there. You shall 
never take her without her answer, unless you take 
her without her tongue. O, that woman that cannot 
make her fault her husband's occasion, let her 
never nurse her child herself, for she will breed
it like a fool!
ORLANDO
For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee.
ROSALIND
Alas! dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours.
ORLANDO
I must attend the duke at dinner: by two o'clock I 
will be with thee again.
ROSALIND
Ay, go your ways, go your ways; I knew what you 
would prove: my friends told me as much, and I 
thought no less: that flattering tongue of yours 
won me: 'tis but one cast away, and so, come, 
death! Two o'clock is your hour?
ORLANDO
Ay, sweet Rosalind.
ROSALIND
By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend 
me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, 
if you break one jot of your promise or come one 
minute behind your hour, I will think you the most 
pathetical break-promise and the most hollow lover 
and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind that 
may be chosen out of the gross band of the 
unfaithful: therefore beware my censure and keep 
your promise.
ORLANDO
With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my 
Rosalind: so adieu.
ROSALIND

Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such 
offenders, and let Time try: adieu.

Exit ORLANDO
CELIA
You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate: 
we must have your doublet and hose plucked over your 
head, and show the world what the bird hath done to 
her own nest.
ROSALIND
O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou
didst know how many fathom deep I am in love! But
it cannot be sounded: my affection hath an unknown 
bottom, like the bay of Portugal.
CELIA
Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as you pour
affection in, it runs out.
ROSALIND
No, that same wicked bastard of Venus that was begot 
of thought, conceived of spleen and born of madness, 
that blind rascally boy that abuses every one's eyes 
because his own are out, let him be judge how deep I 
am in love. I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out
of the sight of Orlando: I'll go find a shadow and
sigh till he come.
CELIA
And I'll sleep.
Exeunt

SCENE II. The forest.
Enter JAQUES, Lords, and Foresters

JAQUES
Which is he that killed the deer?
A Lord
Sir, it was I.
JAQUES
Let's present him to the duke, like a Roman 
conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's 
horns upon his head, for a branch of victory. Have 
you no song, forester, for this purpose?
Forester
Yes, sir.

JAQUES

Sing it: 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it 
make noise enough.


SONG.
Forester
What shall he have that kill'd the deer? 
His leather skin and horns to wear. 
Then sing him home;

The rest shall bear this burden

Take thou no scorn to wear the horn; 
It was a crest ere thou wast born: 
Thy father's father wore it,
And thy father bore it:
The horn, the horn, the lusty horn 
Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.
Exeunt

SCENE III. The forest.
Enter ROSALIND and CELIA

ROSALIND
How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock? 
and here much Orlando!
CELIA
I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he 
hath ta'en his bow and arrows and is gone forth to 
sleep. Look, who comes here.
Enter SILVIUS
SILVIUS
My errand is to you, fair youth;
My gentle Phebe bid me give you this:
I know not the contents; but, as I guess
By the stern brow and waspish action 
Which she did use as she was writing of it, 
It bears an angry tenor: pardon me:
I am but as a guiltless messenger. 
ROSALIND
Patience herself would startle at this letter 
And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all: 
She says I am not fair, that I lack manners;

She calls me proud, and that she could not love me, 
Were man as rare as phoenix. 'Od's my will!

Her love is not the hare that I do hunt:
Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well, 
This is a letter of your own device.
SILVIUS
No, I protest, I know not the contents: 
Phebe did write it.
ROSALIND
Come, come, you are a fool
And turn'd into the extremity of love.
I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand.
A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think
That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands: 
She has a huswife's hand; but that's no matter:
I say she never did invent this letter;
This is a man's invention and his hand.
SILVIUS
Sure, it is hers.
ROSALIND
Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style.
A style for-challengers; why, she defies me,
Like Turk to Christian: women's gentle brain
Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention 
Such Ethiope words, blacker in their effect
Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter? 
SILVIUS
So please you, for I never heard it yet;
Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. 
ROSALIND
She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant writes.
Reads
Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, 
That a maiden's heart hath burn'd? 
Can a woman rail thus?
SILVIUS
Call you this railing?
ROSALIND
[Reads]
Why, thy godhead laid apart, 
Warr'st thou with a woman's heart? 
Did you ever hear such railing? 
Whiles the eye of man did woo me, 
That could do no vengeance to me.

Meaning me a beast.

If the scorn of your bright eyne
Have power to raise such love in mine,
Alack, in me what strange effect
Would they work in mild aspect!
Whiles you chid me, I did love;
How then might your prayers move!
He that brings this love to thee
Little knows this love in me:
And by him seal up thy mind;
Whether that thy youth and kind
Will the faithful offer take
Of me and all that I can make;
Or else by him my love deny,
And then I'll study how to die.
SILVIUS
Call you this chiding?
CELIA
Alas, poor shepherd!
ROSALIND
Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity. Wilt
thou love such a woman? What, to make thee an 
instrument and play false strains upon thee! not to
be endured! Well, go your way to her, for I see
love hath made thee a tame snake, and say this to 
her: that if she love me, I charge her to love
thee; if she will not, I will never have her unless
thou entreat for her. If you be a true lover,
hence, and not a word; for here comes more company.
Exit SILVIUS
Enter OLIVER
OLIVER
Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, if you know, 
Where in the purlieus of this forest stands
A sheep-cote fenced about with olive trees? 
CELIA
West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom: 
The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream
Left on your right hand brings you to the place. 
But at this hour the house doth keep itself; 
There's none within.
OLIVER
If that an eye may profit by a tongue,

Then should I know you by description;

Such garments and such years: 'The boy is fair,
Of female favour, and bestows himself
Like a ripe sister: the woman low
And browner than her brother.' Are not you
The owner of the house I did inquire for?
CELIA
It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are.
OLIVER
Orlando doth commend him to you both,
And to that youth he calls his Rosalind
He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he? 
ROSALIND
I am: what must we understand by this?
OLIVER
Some of my shame; if you will know of me
What man I am, and how, and why, and where
This handkercher was stain'd.
CELIA
I pray you, tell it.
OLIVER
When last the young Orlando parted from you
He left a promise to return again
Within an hour, and pacing through the forest, 
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,
Lo, what befell! he threw his eye aside,
And mark what object did present itself:
Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age 
And high top bald with dry antiquity,
A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck
A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself,
Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd 
The opening of his mouth; but suddenly,
Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
And with indented glides did slip away
Into a bush: under which bush's shade
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,
Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch, 
When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis
The royal disposition of that beast
To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead:
This seen, Orlando did approach the man
And found it was his brother, his elder brother. 
CELIA
O, I have heard him speak of that same brother;

And he did render him the most unnatural 
That lived amongst men.

OLIVER
And well he might so do,
For well I know he was unnatural.
ROSALIND
But, to Orlando: did he leave him there, 
Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness? 
OLIVER
Twice did he turn his back and purposed so; 
But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, 
And nature, stronger than his just occasion, 
Made him give battle to the lioness,
Who quickly fell before him: in which hurtling 
From miserable slumber I awaked.
CELIA
Are you his brother?
ROSALIND
Wast you he rescued?
CELIA
Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him?
OLIVER
'Twas I; but 'tis not I I do not shame
To tell you what I was, since my conversion
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. 
ROSALIND
But, for the bloody napkin?
OLIVER
By and by.
When from the first to last betwixt us two
Tears our recountments had most kindly bathed, 
As how I came into that desert place:--
In brief, he led me to the gentle duke,
Who gave me fresh array and entertainment, 
Committing me unto my brother's love;
Who led me instantly unto his cave,
There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm
The lioness had torn some flesh away,
Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted 
And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind.
Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound;
And, after some small space, being strong at heart, 
He sent me hither, stranger as I am,
To tell this story, that you might excuse
His broken promise, and to give this napkin
Dyed in his blood unto the shepherd youth

That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.

ROSALIND swoons
CELIA
Why, how now, Ganymede! sweet Ganymede!
OLIVER
Many will swoon when they do look on blood.
CELIA
There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede!
OLIVER
Look, he recovers.
ROSALIND
I would I were at home.
CELIA
We'll lead you thither.
I pray you, will you take him by the arm?
OLIVER
Be of good cheer, youth: you a man! you lack a
man's heart.
ROSALIND
I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would
think this was well counterfeited! I pray you, tell
your brother how well I counterfeited. Heigh-ho!
OLIVER
This was not counterfeit: there is too great
testimony in your complexion that it was a passion
of earnest.
ROSALIND
Counterfeit, I assure you.
OLIVER
Well then, take a good heart and counterfeit to be a man. 
ROSALIND
So I do: but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by right. 
CELIA
Come, you look paler and paler: pray you, draw 
homewards. Good sir, go with us.
OLIVER
That will I, for I must bear answer back
How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.
ROSALIND
I shall devise something: but, I pray you, commend
my counterfeiting to him. Will you go?
Exeunt

ACT V
SCENE I. The forest.
Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY

TOUCHSTONE
We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey.
AUDREY
Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old 
gentleman's saying.
TOUCHSTONE
A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile 
Martext. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the 
forest lays claim to you.
AUDREY
Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest in me in
the world: here comes the man you mean. 
TOUCHSTONE
It is meat and drink to me to see a clown: by my 
troth, we that have good wits have much to answer 
for; we shall be flouting; we cannot hold.
Enter WILLIAM
WILLIAM
Good even, Audrey.
AUDREY
God ye good even, William.
WILLIAM
And good even to you, sir.
TOUCHSTONE
Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy 
head; nay, prithee, be covered. How old are you, friend? 
WILLIAM
Five and twenty, sir.
TOUCHSTONE
A ripe age. Is thy name William?
WILLIAM
William, sir.
TOUCHSTONE
A fair name. Wast born i' the forest here?
WILLIAM
Ay, sir, I thank God.
TOUCHSTONE
'Thank God;' a good answer. Art rich?
WILLIAM

Faith, sir, so so.

TOUCHSTONE
'So so' is good, very good, very excellent good; and yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise?
WILLIAM
Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.
TOUCHSTONE
Why, thou sayest well. I do now remember a saying, '
The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man 
knows himself to be a fool.' The heathen 
philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, 
would open his lips when he put it into his mouth; 
meaning thereby that grapes were made to eat and 
lips to open. You do love this maid?
WILLIAM
I do, sir.
TOUCHSTONE
Give me your hand. Art thou learned?
WILLIAM
No, sir.
TOUCHSTONE
Then learn this of me: to have, is to have; for it
is a figure in rhetoric that drink, being poured out
of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty 
the other; for all your writers do consent that ipse
is he: now, you are not ipse, for I am he.
WILLIAM
Which he, sir?
TOUCHSTONE
He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you 
clown, abandon,--which is in the vulgar leave,--the 
society,--which in the boorish is company,--of this 
female,--which in the common is woman; which 
together is, abandon the society of this female, or, 
clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better 
understanding, diest; or, to wit I kill thee, make
thee away, translate thy life into death, thy
liberty into bondage: I will deal in poison with
thee, or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy
with thee in faction; I will o'errun thee with
policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways: 
therefore tremble and depart.
AUDREY
Do, good William.
WILLIAM
God rest you merry, sir.

Exit

Enter CORIN
CORIN
Our master and mistress seeks you; come, away, away!
TOUCHSTONE
Trip, Audrey! trip, Audrey! I attend, I attend.
Exeunt

SCENE II. The forest.
Enter ORLANDO and OLIVER

ORLANDO
Is't possible that on so little acquaintance you 
should like her? that but seeing you should love 
her? and loving woo? and, wooing, she should 
grant? and will you persever to enjoy her? 
OLIVER
Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the
poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden 
wooing, nor her sudden consenting; but say with me,
I love Aliena; say with her that she loves me;
consent with both that we may enjoy each other: it 
shall be to your good; for my father's house and all
the revenue that was old Sir Rowland's will I
estate upon you, and here live and die a shepherd. 
ORLANDO
You have my consent. Let your wedding be to-morrow: 
thither will I invite the duke and all's contented 
followers. Go you and prepare Aliena; for look
you, here comes my Rosalind.
Enter ROSALIND
ROSALIND
God save you, brother.
OLIVER
And you, fair sister.
Exit
ROSALIND

O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee 
wear thy heart in a scarf!

ORLANDO
It is my arm.
ROSALIND
I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws 
of a lion.
ORLANDO
Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. 
ROSALIND
Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to 
swoon when he showed me your handkerchief? 
ORLANDO
Ay, and greater wonders than that.
ROSALIND
O, I know where you are: nay, 'tis true: there was 
never any thing so sudden but the fight of two rams 
and Caesar's thrasonical brag of 'I came, saw, and 
overcame:' for your brother and my sister no sooner 
met but they looked, no sooner looked but they 
loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner 
sighed but they asked one another the reason, no 
sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; 
and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs 
to marriage which they will climb incontinent, or
else be incontinent before marriage: they are in
the very wrath of love and they will together; clubs
cannot part them.
ORLANDO
They shall be married to-morrow, and I will bid the
duke to the nuptial. But, O, how bitter a thing it
is to look into happiness through another man's
eyes! By so much the more shall I to-morrow be at
the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I shall
think my brother happy in having what he wishes for. 
ROSALIND
Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind? 
ORLANDO
I can live no longer by thinking.
ROSALIND
I will weary you then no longer with idle talking.
Know of me then, for now I speak to some purpose,
that I know you are a gentleman of good conceit: I
speak not this that you should bear a good opinion
of my knowledge, insomuch I say I know you are;
neither do I labour for a greater esteem than may in

some little measure draw a belief from you, to do 
yourself good and not to grace me. Believe then, if 
you please, that I can do strange things: I have, 
since I was three year old, conversed with a 
magician, most profound in his art and yet not 
damnable. If you do love Rosalind so near the heart 
as your gesture cries it out, when your brother 
marries Aliena, shall you marry her: I know into 
what straits of fortune she is driven; and it is

not impossible to me, if it appear not inconvenient
to you, to set her before your eyes tomorrow human
as she is and without any danger.
ORLANDO
Speakest thou in sober meanings?
ROSALIND
By my life, I do; which I tender dearly, though I
say I am a magician. Therefore, put you in your
best array: bid your friends; for if you will be
married to-morrow, you shall, and to Rosalind, if you will.
Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE
Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of hers.
PHEBE
Youth, you have done me much ungentleness, 
To show the letter that I writ to you. 
ROSALIND
I care not if I have: it is my study
To seem despiteful and ungentle to you:
You are there followed by a faithful shepherd; 
Look upon him, love him; he worships you. 
PHEBE
Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love. 
SILVIUS
It is to be all made of sighs and tears;
And so am I for Phebe.
PHEBE
And I for Ganymede.
ORLANDO
And I for Rosalind.
ROSALIND
And I for no woman.

In “Rooms,” the last section of Tender Buttons, Stein writes in stanzas 14 and 15: The sister 

was not a mister. Was this a surprise. It was. The conclusion came

when there was no arrangement. All the time that there was a question there was a decision. Replacing a casual acquaintance with an ordinary daughter does not make a son.

It happened in a way that the time was perfect and there was a growth of a whole dividing time so that where formerly there was no mistake there was no mistake now. For instance before when there was a separation there was waiting, now when there is separation there is the division between intending and departing. This made no more mixture than there would be if there had been no change.

Mistaken identity looms large in As You Like It.

SILVIUS
It is to be all made of faith and service; 
And so am I for Phebe.
PHEBE
And I for Ganymede.
ORLANDO
And I for Rosalind.
ROSALIND
And I for no woman.
SILVIUS
It is to be all made of fantasy,
All made of passion and all made of wishes,
All adoration, duty, and observance,
All humbleness, all patience and impatience,
All purity, all trial, all observance;
And so am I for Phebe.
PHEBE
And so am I for Ganymede.
ORLANDO
And so am I for Rosalind.
ROSALIND
And so am I for no woman.
PHEBE
If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
SILVIUS
If this be so, why blame you me to love you? 
ORLANDO
If this be so, why blame you me to love you? 
ROSALIND
Who do you speak to, 'Why blame you me to love you?' 
ORLANDO
To her that is not here, nor doth not hear.
ROSALIND
Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like the howling

of Irish wolves against the moon.

To SILVIUS
I will help you, if I can:
To PHEBE
I would love you, if I could. To-morrow meet me all together.
To PHEBE
I will marry you, if ever I marry woman, and I'll be 
married to-morrow:
To ORLANDO
I will satisfy you, if ever I satisfied man, and you 
shall be married to-morrow:
To SILVIUS
I will content you, if what pleases you contents 
you, and you shall be married to-morrow.
To ORLANDO
As you love Rosalind, meet:
To SILVIUS
as you love Phebe, meet: and as I love no woman, 
I'll meet. So fare you well: I have left you commands. 
SILVIUS
I'll not fail, if I live.
PHEBE
Nor I.
ORLANDO
Nor I.
Exeunt

SCENE III. The forest.
Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY

TOUCHSTONE

To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey; to-morrow will 
we be married.
AUDREY
I do desire it with all my heart; and I hope it is
no dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of the 
world. Here comes two of the banished duke's pages.
Enter two Pages
First Page
Well met, honest gentleman.
TOUCHSTONE
By my troth, well met. Come, sit, sit, and a song.
Second Page
We are for you: sit i' the middle.
First Page
Shall we clap into't roundly, without hawking or 
spitting or saying we are hoarse, which are the only 
prologues to a bad voice?
Second Page
I'faith, i'faith; and both in a tune, like two
gipsies on a horse.


SONG.
It was a lover and his lass,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That o'er the green corn-field did pass
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding:
Sweet lovers love the spring.
Between the acres of the rye,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino
These pretty country folks would lie,
In spring time, & c.
This carol they began that hour,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
How that a life was but a flower
In spring time, & c.
And therefore take the present time,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino;
For love is crowned with the prime
In spring time, & c.
TOUCHSTONE
Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great 
matter in the ditty, yet the note was very 
untuneable.

First Page

You are deceived, sir: we kept time, we lost not our time.
TOUCHSTONE
By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost to hear 
such a foolish song. God be wi' you; and God mend 
your voices! Come, Audrey.
Exeunt

SCENE IV. The forest.
Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, JAQUES, ORLANDO, OLIVER, and CELIA

DUKE SENIOR
Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy
Can do all this that he hath promised? 
ORLANDO
I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not; 
As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.
Enter ROSALIND, SILVIUS, and PHEBE
ROSALIND
Patience once more, whiles our compact is urged: 
You say, if I bring in your Rosalind,
You will bestow her on Orlando here?
DUKE SENIOR
That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her.
ROSALIND
And you say, you will have her, when I bring her?
ORLANDO
That would I, were I of all kingdoms king.
ROSALIND
You say, you'll marry me, if I be willing?
PHEBE
That will I, should I die the hour after.
ROSALIND
But if you do refuse to marry me,
You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd? 
PHEBE
So is the bargain.
ROSALIND
You say, that you'll have Phebe, if she will? 
SILVIUS
Though to have her and death were both one thing. 
ROSALIND

I have promised to make all this matter even.

Keep you your word, O duke, to give your daughter; 
You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter:
Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me,
Or else refusing me, to wed this shepherd:
Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her.
If she refuse me: and from hence I go,
To make these doubts all even.
Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA
DUKE SENIOR
I do remember in this shepherd boy
Some lively touches of my daughter's favour. 
ORLANDO
My lord, the first time that I ever saw him 
Methought he was a brother to your daughter: 
But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born, 
And hath been tutor'd in the rudiments
Of many desperate studies by his uncle, 
Whom he reports to be a great magician, 
Obscured in the circle of this forest.
Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY
JAQUES
There is, sure, another flood toward, and these
couples are coming to the ark. Here comes a pair of
very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools. 
TOUCHSTONE
Salutation and greeting to you all!
JAQUES
Good my lord, bid him welcome: this is the 
motley-minded gentleman that I have so often met in
the forest: he hath been a courtier, he swears. 
TOUCHSTONE
If any man doubt that, let him put me to my
purgation. I have trod a measure; I have flattered
a lady; I have been politic with my friend, smooth
with mine enemy; I have undone three tailors; I have
had four quarrels, and like to have fought one.
JAQUES
And how was that ta'en up?
TOUCHSTONE
Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the 
seventh cause.

JAQUES

How seventh cause? Good my lord, like this fellow.
DUKE SENIOR
I like him very well.
TOUCHSTONE
God 'ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. I
press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country 
copulatives, to swear and to forswear: according as 
marriage binds and blood breaks: a poor virgin,
sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own; a poor 
humour of mine, sir, to take that that no man else 
will: rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a
poor house; as your pearl in your foul oyster.

Oyster is a word Stein uses in each section of Tender Buttons. From stanza 3 in subpoem 3 “A substance in a cushion.”:

Supposing you do not like to change, supposing it is very clean that there is no change in appearance, supposing that there is regularity and a costume is that any the worse than an oyster and an exchange. Come to season that is there any extreme use in feather and cotton.

Observant Jews do not eat seafood including oysters. Stein was not an observant Jew and Steiny does not think Stein is going out of her way to be provocative. Stein is using the oyster to point at a standard just as Shakespeare is. While Shakespeare is focused on the “honesty” of a miser in a poor house which he equates to a pearl in spoiled oyster (and Touchstone is saying he’ll take this girl no one else wants), Stein is framing the morality of hiding a same-sex union. Within the “fabric” of Judeo-Christian religious belief, there seems to be little option for change such that a same-sex union would be considered unclean (trayfe, not kosher). Stein’s phrase “come to season” could indicate sexuality while the “extreme use in feather and cotton” might point to a bed made up with cotton sheets and a feather comforter.

DUKE SENIOR
By my faith, he is very swift and sententious.
TOUCHSTONE
According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such dulcet diseases.
JAQUES
But, for the seventh cause; how did you find the
quarrel on the seventh cause?
TOUCHSTONE
Upon a lie seven times removed:--bear your body more 
seeming, Audrey:--as thus, sir. I did dislike the
cut of a certain courtier's beard: he sent me word, 
if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the

mind it was: this is called the Retort Courteous. 
If I sent him word again 'it was not well cut,' he 
would send me word, he cut it to please himself: 
this is called the Quip Modest. If again 'it was 
not well cut,' he disabled my judgment: this is 
called the Reply Churlish. If again 'it was not 
well cut,' he would answer, I spake not true: this 
is called the Reproof Valiant. If again 'it was not 
well cut,' he would say I lied: this is called the 
Counter-cheque Quarrelsome: and so to the Lie 
Circumstantial and the Lie Direct.

JAQUES
And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut?
TOUCHSTONE
I durst go no further than the Lie Circumstantial,
nor he durst not give me the Lie Direct; and so we 
measured swords and parted.
JAQUES
Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie? 
TOUCHSTONE
O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book; as you have
books for good manners: I will name you the degrees.
The first, the Retort Courteous; the second, the 
Quip Modest; the third, the Reply Churlish; the 
fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth, the 
Countercheque Quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with 
Circumstance; the seventh, the Lie Direct. All
these you may avoid but the Lie Direct; and you may 
avoid that too, with an If. I knew when seven
justices could not take up a quarrel, but when the 
parties were met themselves, one of them thought but 
of an If, as, 'If you said so, then I said so;' and
they shook hands and swore brothers. Your If is the 
only peacemaker; much virtue in If.
JAQUES
Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he's as good at 
any thing and yet a fool.
DUKE SENIOR
He uses his folly like a stalking-horse and under 
the presentation of that he shoots his wit.
Enter HYMEN, ROSALIND, and CELIA Still Music
HYMEN

Then is there mirth in heaven, 
When earthly things made even 
Atone together.
Good duke, receive thy daughter 
Hymen from heaven brought her, 
Yea, brought her hither,
That thou mightst join her hand with his
Whose heart within his bosom is.
ROSALIND
[To DUKE SENIOR] To you I give myself, for I am yours.
To ORLANDO
To you I give myself, for I am yours.
DUKE SENIOR
If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter.
ORLANDO
If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind.
PHEBE
If sight and shape be true,
Why then, my love adieu!
ROSALIND
I'll have no father, if you be not he:
I'll have no husband, if you be not he: 
Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. 
HYMEN
Peace, ho! I bar confusion:
'Tis I must make conclusion
Of these most strange events:
Here's eight that must take hands
To join in Hymen's bands,
If truth holds true contents.
You and you no cross shall part:
You and you are heart in heart
You to his love must accord,
Or have a woman to your lord:
You and you are sure together,
As the winter to foul weather.
Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing,
Feed yourselves with questioning;
That reason wonder may diminish,
How thus we met, and these things finish. 

SONG.
Wedding is great Juno's crown:
O blessed bond of board and bed!
'Tis Hymen peoples every town;

High wedlock then be honoured: 
Honour, high honour and renown, 
To Hymen, god of every town! 

DUKE SENIOR
O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me! 
Even daughter, welcome, in no less degree. 
PHEBE
I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; 
Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine.
Enter JAQUES DE BOYS
JAQUES DE BOYS
Let me have audience for a word or two:
I am the second son of old Sir Rowland,
That bring these tidings to this fair assembly.
Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day
Men of great worth resorted to this forest, 
Address'd a mighty power; which were on foot,
In his own conduct, purposely to take
His brother here and put him to the sword:
And to the skirts of this wild wood he came;
Where meeting with an old religious man,
After some question with him, was converted
Both from his enterprise and from the world,
His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother, 
And all their lands restored to them again
That were with him exiled. This to be true,
I do engage my life.
DUKE SENIOR
Welcome, young man;
Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding:
To one his lands withheld, and to the other
A land itself at large, a potent dukedom.
First, in this forest, let us do those ends
That here were well begun and well begot:
And after, every of this happy number
That have endured shrewd days and nights with us 
Shall share the good of our returned fortune, 
According to the measure of their states. 
Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity
And fall into our rustic revelry.
Play, music! And you, brides and bridegrooms all, 
With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall.

Shakespeare does some odd things with names. In this play, he has two

characters with the most uncommon name Jaques. The second Jaques arrives late in the play and is brother to Orlando. While he establishes both dukes, fathers of Celia and Rosalind, as characters with substantial spoken parts, he only names Duke Frederick but not the banished brother whom Shakespeare calls Duke Senior.

The Fool from Duke Frederick’s court is named Touchstone. A touchstone is a black stone related to flint that was used to test the purity of gold and silver by the streak left on the stone when rubbed by the metal. Throughout Tender Buttons, Stein discusses elements of the Periodic Table. Silver seems to stand for Alice while lead is Gertrude. Perhaps this last stanza from “A chair.” speaks to Stein’s touchstone:

If the chance to dirty diminishing is necessary, if it is why is there no complexion, why is there no rubbing, why is there no special protection.

In Tender Buttons, Stein rarely offers any names except for “Mildred’s umbrella.”, “A little called Pauline.”, and possibly “This is this dress, aider.”. Mildred could be an aslant reference to Stein’s mother Amelia who was nicknamed Milly, Stein’s friend, the journalist Mildred Aldrich, or any number of suffragettes including the heroine of an 1874 book entitled, Mildred's Career: A Tale of the Women's Suffragette Movement. Pauline might be the mother of Stein and Picasso’s artist friend Marie Laurencin. Stein was fascinated by this mother and daughter pair and wrote about them in The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas. But Pauline might also be a reference to a branch of Catholic monks. Aider, a word Stein does not capitalize in her subpoem title, as she capitalizes Mildred and Pauline, might be a version of Ada, a stand in name for Alice Toklas as established by Stein’s word portrait about Ada. The word aider seems to point at Toklas who became Stein’s helpmate.
Because Stein purposely is not naming Toklas in overt ways—she is trying to protect their “good” names. One theory Steiny has about Stein’s copious use of the article “a” is that Stein is pointing at Alice. It’s her way of covertly naming her beloved.

JAQUES
Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly, 
The duke hath put on a religious life
And thrown into neglect the pompous court? 
JAQUES DE BOYS
He hath.
JAQUES
To him will I : out of these convertites
There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.
To DUKE SENIOR

You to your former honour I bequeath;

Your patience and your virtue well deserves it:
To ORLANDO
You to a love that your true faith doth merit:
To OLIVER
You to your land and love and great allies:
To SILVIUS
You to a long and well-deserved bed:
To TOUCHSTONE
And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage
Is but for two months victuall'd. So, to your pleasures: 
I am for other than for dancing measures.
DUKE SENIOR
Stay, Jaques, stay.
JAQUES
To see no pastime I what you would have
I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave.
Exit
DUKE SENIOR
Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites, 
As we do trust they'll end, in true delights.
A dance
EPILOGUE
ROSALIND
It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue;
but it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord 
the prologue. If it be true that good wine needs
no bush, 'tis true that a good play needs no 
epilogue; yet to good wine they do use good bushes, 
and good plays prove the better by the help of good 
epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am
neither a good epilogue nor cannot insinuate with

you in the behalf of a good play! I am not

furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not 
become me: my way is to conjure you; and I'll begin 
with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love 
you bear to men, to like as much of this play as 
please you: and I charge you, O men, for the love
you bear to women--as I perceive by your simpering, 
none of you hates them--that between you and the 
women the play may please. If I were a woman I 
would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased 
me, complexions that liked me and breaths that I 
defied not: and, I am sure, as many as have good 
beards or good faces or sweet breaths will, for my 
kind offer, when I make curtsy, bid me farewell.
Exeunt

Shakespeare uses the word fashion as noun six times in As You Like It. It is tellingly important that he uses the word in the first and last speeches made. How things appear is given heavy weight in Tender Buttons. It is not just about mode of appearance but how things are made. Tender Buttons is all about process and As You Like It was a rich laboratory for how language could be made and used.

The version of William Shakespeare's As You Like It used by the author was created by Jeremy Hylton, jeremy@alum.mit.edu and can be found at: http://shakespeare.mit.edu/asyoulikeit/full.html