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That he hath not. Cel. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one: Shall we be sunder'd? shall we part, sweet girl? No; let my father seek another heir. Therefore devise with me, how we may fly, Whither to go, and what to bear with us :>> And do not seek to take your change upon you, To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out; For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. Ros. Why, whither shall we go?
To seek my uncle.
Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
A gallant curtle-ax upon my thigh,
Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a man
And therefore, look you, call me, Ganymede.
Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state No longer Celia, but Aliena.
Ros. But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal The clownish fool out of your father's court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel?
Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me Leave me alone to woo him: Let's away, And get our jewels and our wealth together; Devise the fittest time, and safest way To hide us from pursuit that will be made After my flight: Now go we in content, To liberty, and not to banishment.
SCENE I. The Forest of Arden.
That from the hunters' aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord,
Enter DUKE Senior, AMIENS, and other Lords, in The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans,
the dress of Foresters.
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Duke S. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in Almost to bursting; and the big round tears
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
Cours'd one another down his innocent nose
1 Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similies. First, for his weeping in the needless stream; Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak’st a testament
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more
To that which had too much: Then, being alone,
2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping, and
Show me the place;
I love to cope him in these sullen fits, For then he's full of matter. 2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight.
Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.
Your daughter and her cousin much commend
That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles;
I rather will subject me to the malice
Adam. But do not so: I have five hundred crowns,
Orl. O good old man; how well in thee appears
Duke F. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant The constant service of the antique world,
If he be absent, bring his brother to me,
SCENE III.— Before Oliver's House.
Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting.
Or. Who's there?
When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
Adam. What! my young master? O, my We'll light upon some settled low content.
O, my sweet master, O you memory
Of old sir Rowland! why, what make you here?
No more do yours; your virtues, gentle master,
0, what a world is this, when what is comely
Ori. Why, what's the matter?
O unhappy youth,
The enemy of all your graces lives:
Your brother-(no, no brother; yet the son
Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have
Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here.
Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce
Yet this I will not do, do how I can;
Adam. Master, go on; and I will follow thee,
The Forest of Arden.
Ros. O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits! Touch. I 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 show itself courageous to petticoat: therefore, courage, good Aliena.
Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I can 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
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.
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 wound,
I have by hard adventure found mine own.
Touch. And I mine: I remember, when I was in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming anight to Jane Smile : and I remember the kissing of her batlet, and 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
Is much upon my fashion.
Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale
Fair sir, I pity her.
But I am shepherd to another man,
Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed,
| That you will feed on; but what is, come see, And in my voice most welcome shall you be. 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
And willingly could waste my time in it.
And buy it with your gold right suddenly. [Ereunt
But winter and rough weather.
Jaq. More, more, I pr'ythee, more. Ami. It will make you melancholy, monsieu Jaques.
Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel suck eggs: More, I pr'ythee, more.
Ami. My voice is ragged; I know, I cann please you.
Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desi you to sing: Come, more; another stanza; Ca you them stanzas?
Ami. What you will, monsieur Jaques.
Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names; they ow me nothing: Will you sing?
Ami. More at your request, than to please m self.
Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I thank you but that they call compliment, is li the encounter of two dog-apes; and when a ma thanks me heartily, methinks, I have given him penny, and he renders me the beggarly thank Come, sing; and you that will not, hold yo tongues.
Ami. Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover while; the duke will drink under this tree: hath been all this day to look you.
Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid hi He is too dispútable for my company: I think as many matters as he; but I give heaven thank and make no boast of them. Come, warble, com
Who doth ambition shun, [All together be
And pleas'd with what he gets,
AS YOU LIKE IT.
Come hither, come hither, come hither;
Here shall he see
But winter and rough weather.
Jag. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I made yesterday in despite of my invention. Ami. And I'll sing it.
Jaq. Thus it goes:
If it do come to pass,
That any man turn ass,
An if he will come to Ami.
Ami. What's that ducdàme?
Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into 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.
Enter ORLANDO and ADAM.
Adam. Dear master, I can go no further; O, I die for food! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master.
Ort. 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 in the bleak air: Come, I will bear thee to some shelter; and thou shall not die for lack of a dinner, 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,
1 Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach.
That your poor friends must woo your company?
Jag. A fool, a fool! I met a fool i'the
A motley fool;-a miserable world!
And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms, - and yet a motley fool.
Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags:
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
O noble fool!
One that hath been a
And says, if ladies be but young, and fair,
After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd
In mangled forms: - O, that I were a fool!
Duke S. Fye on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do.
Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but good?
Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding
For thou thyself hast been a libertine,
Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride,
That says, his bravery is not on my cost,
My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right, Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free, Why then, my taxing like a wild goose flies, Unclaim'd of any man. — - But who comes here?
Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn.
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
I thought, that all things had been savage here;
Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church;
If ever sat at any good man's feast;
And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church ;
Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while.
Orl. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good comfort!
Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone unhappy:
This wide and universal theatre
Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice;
In fair round belly, with good capon lin❜d,
I thank you most for him.
I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.