In his soliloquy at the end of Act 1, Scene 1, Oliver reveals his true feelings about his brother directly to the audience:
Farewell, good Charles. [Charles] exits.
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 in
the heart of the world, and especially of my own
people, who best know him, that I am altogether
Alone on stage, Oliver feels comfortable admitting that he hates his younger brother Orlando, and hopes that he dies in the wrestling match against Charles (“I hope I shall see an end of him / for my soul—yet I know not why— / hates nothing more than he”). Oliver recognizes his hatred as ill-founded, admitting that Orlando is “gentle,” “learned,” and “full of noble device” (well-mannered). Orlando is so universally well-liked, in fact, that Oliver is “misprized” by comparison, so he must get rid of him.
Several important elements of the dynamic between the two brothers come to the surface in this scene. Soliloquies often work to expose the hidden elements of a character’s interior in a play. His deep jealousy of his brother, his insecurity in his role at court, and the self-awareness that his hatred is misplaced are only revealed when Oliver is alone with the audience.
In this scene, the audience also learns of his plot to kill his brother and its motive. While Oliver’s dark motivations are revealed here, so too are the seeds of his development and eventual evolution. Oliver can recognize the good in his brother, despite his hatred of him, and this affection will eventually overcome his jealousy.
As You Like It ends with a humorous soliloquy from Rosalind herself, found in the Epilogue:
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.
Here, the self-proclaimed magician makes her attempt to “conjure” the audience. Addressing the audience directly, Rosalind asks the women present, for the sake of their men, to like as much of the play as they are willing to like. Men, she asks, for the love of their women, to enjoy those parts of the play the women don’t. Then, the actor playing Rosalind—who, in Shakespeare’s day, would have been a man—fully shatters the fourth wall, and says that if he were a woman, he would kiss as many men there as appeal to him.
This teasing ending acknowledges the existence of the play, the speaker's identity as an actor, his gender, and the audience as spectators of the play. All in all, this is a highly unusual epilogue—why did Shakespeare close on this note?
It is helpful to consider this passage alongside Jaques’s earlier pronouncement that “All the world’s a stage / and all the men and women merely players.” Jaques suggests that everyone goes about life playing a part, assuming an identity based on what is expected of him at a certain age. Here, Rosalind acknowledges that she is (literally) playing a role—and so are we all. The direct implication of the audience in the soliloquy reflects the play’s meaning back to us. We play roles in our everyday lives, as we play the role of the audience in the theater. Rosalind “charg[es]” us to take what we like from the play—that is, to interpret it as we like, and perhaps to adopt whatever elements of Shakespeare’s comedy that we please into our own lives.