'Tis right, quoth he; thus misery doth part Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; 'Tis just the fashion: Wherefore do you look 2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and com- Upon the sobbing deer. Duke S. Show me the place; I love to cope him in these sullen fits, 2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. [Exeunt. O, my sweet master, O, you memory And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and va- Why would you be so fond to overcome Know you not, master, to some kind of men O, what a world is this, when what is comely Orl. Why, what's the matter? Come not within these doors; within this roof Your brother-(no, no brother; yet the son- means To burn the lodging where you use to lie, Duke F. Can it be possible, that no man saw This is no place, this house is but a butchery; them? It cannot be some villains of my court Are of consent and sufferance in this. 1 Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see The ladies, her attendants of her chamber,' tress. 2 Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. If he be absent, bring his brother to me, [Exeunt. SCENE III.-Before Oliver's house. Orl. Who's there? Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. Orl. Why, whither, Adam, would'st thou have me go? Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. Orl. What, would'st thou have me go and Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce Adam. But do not so: I have five hundred The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Adam. What! my young master? O, my I'll do the service of a younger man gentle master, In all your business and necessities. Orl. O good old man; how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, Adam. Master, go on; and I will follow thee, [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-The Forest of Arden.` Enter ROSALIND in boy's clothes, CELIA drest like a Shepherdess, and TOUCHSTONE. Ros. O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits! Touch. 1 care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. Ros. 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 shew itself courageous to petticoat; therefore, courage, good Aliena. Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further. Touch. 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. Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden. Touch. 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. Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone:-Look you, who comes here; a young man, and an old, in solemn talk. Enter CORIN and SILVIUS. Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! Cor. I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now. Sil. 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? Cor. Into a thousand, that I have forgotten. Or, if thou hast not sat as I do now, Or, if thou hast not broke from company, Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy I have by hard adventure found mine own. Touch. And I mine: I remember, when I was in love, I broke my sword upon & stone, and bid him take that for coming anight to Jane Smile: and I remember the kissing of her batlet, and then the cow's dugs that her pretty chop'd hands had milk'd: 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. Ros. Thou speak'st wiser, than thou art'ware of. Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be 'ware of mine own wit, till I break my shins against it. Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion Touch. And mine; but it grows something Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond man, Touch. Holloa; you, clown! Touch. Your betters, sir. Cor. Else are they very wretched. Good even to you, friend. Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. Ros. I pr'ythee, 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 succour. Cor. Fair sir, I pity her, And wish for her sake, more than for mine own, SONG. Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture? Cor. That young swain, that you saw here but erewhile, That little cares for buying any thing. Ros. 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. Cel. And we will mend thy wages: I like this place, And willingly could waste my time in it. Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold: SCENE V.-The same. [Exeunt. But winter and rough weather. Jaq. More, more, I pr'ythee, more. Ami. It will make you melancholy, monsieur Jaques. I Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel sucks eggs: More, I pr'ythee, more. Ami. My voice is ragged; I know, I cannot please you. Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire you to sing: Come, more; another stanza; call you them stanzas? Ami. What you will, monsieur Jaques. Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing: Will you sing? Ami. More at your request, than to please myself. Jaq. 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. Ami. 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. Jaq. 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. Who doth ambition shun, [All together here. And loves to live i the sun, Seeking the food he eats, And pleas'd with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither; No enemy, But winter and rough weather. Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I If it do come to pass, And if he will come to Ámi. Ami. What's that ducdame? Jaq. "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. Ami. And I'll go seek the duke; his banquet is prepar❜d. [Exeunt severally. SCENE VI.-The same. Enter ORLANDO and ADAM. Adam. Dear master, I can go no further: 0, I die for food! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master. Orl. 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'll give thee leave to die: but if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said! thou look'st cheerily: and I'll be with thee quickly.-Yet thou liest the bleak air: Come, I will bear thee to some shelter; and thou shalt not die for lack of a din ner, if there live any thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! [Exeunt. SCENE VII.-The same. A table set out. Enter Duke senior, AMIENS, Lords, and others. Duke S.I think he be transform'd into a beast; For I can no where find him like a man. 1 Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence; Here was he merry, hearing of a song. Duke S. 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. 1 Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach. Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this, That your poor friends must woo your company? What! you look merrily. Jaq. 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 may we see, quoth he, how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine; And after an 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 S. What fool is this? Jaq. O worthy fool!-One, that hath been a courtier; And says, if ladies be but young and fair, Duke S. Thou shalt have one. Provided, that you weed your better judgments The why is plain as way to parish church: The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but good? Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chi ding sin : For thou thyself hast been a libertine, Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride, That says, his bravery is not on my cost, (Thinking that I mean him,) but therein suits His folly to the mettle of my speech? There then; How, what then? Let me see wherein My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right, Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn. Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd. distress; Or else a rude despiser of good manners, Orl. You touch'd my vein at first; the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, I must die. Duke S. What would you have? your gentleness shall force, More than your force move us to gentleness. Orl. I almost die for food, and let me have it. Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. Orl. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray Under the shade of melancholy boughs, And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church; Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while, Duke S. Go find him out, And we will nothing waste, till you return. Orl. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good comfort! Exit. Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone unhappy: This wide and universal theatre Jaq. All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: And shining morning face, creeping like snail Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice; In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd, |