As You Like It LRJ #3

Sarita Beekie
Ms. Peifer
10 IB - Hour 5
14 March 2009

As You Like It LRJ #3

"From the east to western Ind, no jewel is like Rosalind. Her worth being mounted on the wind, through all the world bears Rosalind. Are all the pictures fairest lined, are but black to Rosalind. Let no face be kept in mind, but the fair of Rosalind" (As You Like It, Shakespeare, 3, ii, 88-95). Amidst Touchstone's mocking, I couldn't help but wonder, "Who doth write such sweet nothings on the trees of Arden, especially about I?" Thereupon, Celia prithee me in private, "Doth you know who hath but done this?" when I answered that I did not, so she did merrily tease my forgetfulness before telling me, "It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler's heels and your heart both in an instant" (As You Like It, Shakespeare, 3, ii, 216-217). Flustered as I was at the word of my love being near, I asked her, "What did he when thou saw'st him? What said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt thou see him again?" (As You Like It, Shakespeare, 3, ii, 223-227) but more importantly, I prithee, "But doth he know that I am in this forest and in man's apparel?" (As You Like It, Shakespeare, 3, ii, 233-234)

Shortly afterwards however, Orlando doth appear with a disturbingly morose fellow by the name of Jacques (who simply disliked me, wherefore, I do not know). Eventually, I did reveal myself and thus playing the knave, conversed him into admitting that he had marked the trees with lover's words. Then claiming that I could cure him of his infatuation, he rebuked that he wouldst not be cured. Hoping for no less reply, I told him to prove it (so that I might test his love for virtue that I longed for), and that he should call me Rosalind.

I have encountered my father, as well. Not recognizing me he asked of what parentage I was, and I doth reply, "as good as he" and he continued on his merry way. Yea, let me not forget either of the possessed shepherd Silvius and the most disdainful object of his attraction, the shepherdess Phoebe, whose own attraction has been carelessly aimed at me. Oh bother...whatever does one do in complexities as these?