As You Like It - Phebe’s Monologue (“Think not I love him, though I ask for him!”)

This is Phoebe from William Shakespeare's As We Like It. It is Act 3, Scene 5, and Phoebe is wrestling with her son-in-law, actually, Ganymede, who she doesn't realise is actually Rosalind, in disguise. Think not I love him, though I ask for him. Tis but a peevish boy. And yet, he talks well. Though, what care I for words? 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. There was a pretty redness in his lips, a little riper and more lusty red than that mixed in his cheeks. Ah, t'was just the difference betwixt the constant red and the mingled stammering. Debbie Summerlin, still, had they marked him in parcels as I have done, I would have gone near to fall in love with him. No, but for my part, I love him not, nor hate him. And yet, I have more cause to hate him than to love him. But what had he to do to chide me? He said mine eyes were black, and my hair, black. And now I am remembered, scorned at me. I marvel my answer not again. But that's all right. Committance is an oak or a tree. I know the right to take it. A daring, taunting letter. And thou shalt bear it.