218 ACT II. SCENE I-The Forest of Arden. Enter Duke senior, Amiens, and other Lords, in the dress of For esters. Duke S. NOW, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Ami. I would not change it: Happy is your grace Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison? 1 Lord. Duke S. And never stays to greet him; Ay, quoth Jaques, In their assign'd and native dwelling place. Duke S. And did you leave him in this contemplation ? 2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting Upon the sobbing decr. Duke S. Show me the place; I love to cope him in these sullen fits, 2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. SCENE II-A Room in the Palace. [Exeunt. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, and Attendants. Duke F. Can it be possible, that no man saw 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 her. 2 Lord. My, lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft Duke F. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant If he be absent, bring his brother to me, [Exeunt. master, O, my sweet master, O you memory Of old sir Rowland! why, what make you here? Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you? And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant? Why would you be so fond to overcome The bony priser of the humorous duke? Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. O, what a world is this, when what is comely Of him I was about to call his father,)- He will have other means to cut you off: I overheard him and his practices. This is no place, this house is but a butchery; Orla. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go Orla. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my who comes here; a young man, and an old, in solemn food? Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce A thievish living on the common road? This I must do, or know not what to do: Yet this I will not do, do how I ean; I rather will subject me to the malice Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother. Adam. But do not so: I have five hundred crowns, The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father, Which I did store to be my foster-nurse, When service should in my old limbs lie lame, And unregarded age in corners thrown; Take that: and He that doth the ravens feed, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold; All this I give you: Let me be your servant; Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty: For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you; I'll do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities. Orla. O good old man; how well in thee appears Adam. Master, go on; and I will follow thee, talk. Enter Corin and Silvius. Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. 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 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 with me. Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond man, If he for gold will give us any food; Exe. I faint almost to death. 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 most be content. Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone :-Look you, Touch. Holla; you, clown! Ros. Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman. 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, My fortunes were more able to relieve her: But I am shepherd to another man, And do not shear the fleeces that I graze; My master is of churlish disposition, And little recks to find the way to heaven By doing deeds of hospitality: Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed, Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now, By reason of his absence, there is nothing 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. If it do come to pass, Gross fools as he, An if he will come to Ami. Ami. What's that ducdame? Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a Cel. And we will mend thy wages: I like this place, circle.-I'll go sleep if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail And willingly could waste my time in it. Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold: Go with me; If you like, upon report, The soil, the profit, and this kind of life, I will your very faithful feeder be, And buy it with your gold right suddenly. [Exeunt. SCENE V.-The same. Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others. SONG. Ami. Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note No enemy, But winter and rough weather. Jaq. More, more, I pr'ythee, more. Ami. It will make you melancholy, monsieur Jaques. Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. I 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 haye 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. 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: O. I die for food! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master. Orla. 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 a while 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 shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adain! [Exeunt. SCENE VII.-The same. A table set out, Enter 1 Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence i 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, Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags: An hour by his dial.-O noble fool! Jaq. O worthy fool!-One that hath been a courtier; They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,- In mangled forms:-0, that I were a fool! Duke S. Thou shalt have one. To blow on whom I please; for so fools have: And they that are most galled with my folly, They most must laugh; And why, sir, must they so? He, that a fool doth very wisely hit, Doth very foolishly, although he smart, Even by the squandering glances of the fool. To speak my mind, and I will through and through Duke S. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do. Enter Orlando, with his sword drawn. tress; Or else a rude despiser of good manners, That in civility thou seem'st so empty? He dies, that touches any of this fruit, Till I and my affairs are answered. Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, I must die. 221 Duke S. What would you have? Your gentleness shall force, More than your force move us to gentleness. Orla. I almost die for food, and let me have it. Of stern commandment: But whate'er you are, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever you have look'd on better days; If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church; If ever sat at any good man's feast; If ever from your eye-lids wip'd a tear, Orla. Then, but forbear your food a little while, Duke S. Go find him out, And we will nothing waste till you return. Oria. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good com fort! Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone unhappy : [Eait. This wide and universal theatre Presents more woeful pageants than the scene All the world's a stage, Jaq. Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice: Grla. You touch'd my vein at first; the thorny point His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Of smooth civility. yet am I inland bred, For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice That ends this strange eventful history, Duke S. Welcome: Set down your venerable burden, And let him feed. Orla. I thank you most for him. So had you need; Amiens sings. SONG. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. Heigh, ho sing, heigh, ho! unto the green holly; 2. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, As friend remember'd not. Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! &c. Duke S. If that you are the good sir Rowland's son,- As have whisper'd faithfully, you were; you And as mine eye doth his effigies witness Most truly limn'd, and living in your face, Be truly welcome hither: I am the duke, That lov'd your father: The residue of your fortune, w ACT III. [Exeunt. Enter Duke SCENE 1-A Room in the Palace, NOT see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be : Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine, Oli. O, that your highness knew my heart in this! I never lov'd my brother in my life. Duke F. More villain thou.-Well, push him out of doors; And let my officers of such a nature Make an extent upon his house and lands: [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The Forest. Enter Orlando, with a pa per. Orla. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love: And, thou, thrice crowned queen of night, survey With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth sway. O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books, And in their barks my thoughts I'll character; That every eye, which in this forest looks, Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where. Run, run, Orlando; carve, on every tree, The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. Enter Corin and Touchstone. [Exit. Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, master Touchstone? Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philoso phy in thee, shepherd? Cor. No more, but that I know, the more one sick. ens, the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, means, and content, is without three good friends:-That the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn: That good pasture makes fat sheep; and that a great cause of the night, is lack of the sun: That he, that hath learned no wit by nature nor art, may complain of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred. Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in court, shepherd? Cor. No, truly. Touch. Then thou art damn'd. Cor. Nay, I hope, Touch. Truly, thou art damn'd; like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side. Cor. For not being at court? Your reason. Touch. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never saw'st good manners; if thou never saw'st good manners, then thy manners must be wicked: and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation: Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd. Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone: those, that are good manners at the court, are as ridiculous in the country, as the behaviour of the country is most mockable at the court. You told me, you salute not at the court, but you kiss your hands; that courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds. Touch. Instance, briefly; come, instance. Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their fells, you know, are greasy. Touch. Why, do not your courtiers hands sweat? and is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow: A better instance, I say; come. Cor. Besides, our hands are hard. Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shal low, again: A more sounder instance, come. Cor. And they are often tarr'd over with the surgery of our sheep; And would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's hands are perfumed with civet. Touch. Most shallow man! Thou worms-meat, in respect of a good piece of flesh: Indeed!-Learn of the wise and perpend: Civet is of a baser birth than |