As I like it

I was discussing As You Like It with a friend last night and mentioned that it's my favorite Shakespeare. I, then, in order to ensure that I sounded like a complete idiot*, mispronounced Jaques's name, misattibuted my favorite speech, and misquoted said speech. I am going to English Major Hell, I just know it.

But, just to brighten an otherwise lack-luster Friday, here is the speech. Please, please, let me type it correctly.

Phebe, Act III, scene v**

Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me ere-while?
[...]
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 offense 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
Betwixt 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 remembere'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?
[...]
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.


*Rather than the partial idiot that I normally am when talking to him.

**Page 686 in The Big, Heavy Book of Shakespeare.