running scene 4

  Enter Duke [Frederick], with Lords

  DUKE FREDERICK Can it be possible that no man saw them?

  It cannot be: some villains2 of my court

  Are of consent and sufferance3 in this.

  FIRST LORD I cannot hear of any that did see her.

  The ladies, her attendants of her chamber,

  Saw her abed, and in the morning early

  They found the bed untreasured7 of their mistress.

  SECOND LORD My lord, the roynish8 clown, at whom so oft

  Your grace was wont9 to laugh, is also missing.

  Hisperia, the princess' gentlewoman,

  Confesses that she secretly o'erheard

  Your daughter and her cousin much commend

  The parts13 and graces of the wrestler

  That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles,

  And she believes, wherever they are gone,

  That youth is surely in their company.

  DUKE FREDERICK Send to his brother, fetch that gallant17 hither.

  If he be absent, bring his brother to me.

  I'll make him find him. Do this suddenly19,

  And let not search and inquisition quail20

  Exeunt

  To bring again21 these foolish runaways.

  Act 2 Scene 3

  running scene 5

  Enter Orlando and Adam, [meeting]

  ORLANDO Who's there?

  ADAM What, my young master? O, my gentle master!

  O my sweet master! O you memory3

  Of old Sir Rowland! Why, what make you4 here?

  Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you?

  And wherefore are you gentle, strong and valiant?

  Why would you be so fond7 to overcome

  The bonny priser of the humorous8 duke?

  Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.

  Know you not, master, to some kind of men

  Their graces serve them but as enemies?

  No more12 do yours: your virtues, gentle master,

  Are sanctified13 and holy traitors to you.

  O, what a world is this, when what is comely14

  Envenoms15 him that bears it!

  ORLANDO Why, what's the matter?

  ADAM O, unhappy youth,

  Come not within these doors! Within this roof

  The enemy of all your graces lives:

  Your brother -- no, no brother, yet the son --

  Yet not the son, I will not call him son --

  Of him I was about to call his father --

  Hath heard your praises23, and this night he means

  To burn the lodging where you use24 to lie

  And you within it. If he fail of25 that,

  He will have other means to cut you off26;

  I overheard him and his practices27.

  This is no place, this house is but a butchery28;

  Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.

  ORLANDO Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?

  ADAM No matter whither, so31 you come not here.

  ORLANDO What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food?

  Or with a base and boist'rous sword enforce33

  A thievish living on the common34 road?

  This I must do, or know not what to do:

  Yet this I will not do, do how I can.

  I rather will subject me to the malice

  Of a diverted blood38 and bloody brother.

  ADAM But do not so. I have five hundred crowns,

  The thrifty hire40 I saved under your father,

  Which I did store to be my foster-nurse41

  When service should in my old limbs lie lame42

  And unregarded43 age in corners thrown.

  Take that, and he that doth the ravens feed,

  Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,

  Gives gold

  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 lusty48;

  For in my youth I never did apply

  Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood,

  Nor did not with unbashful forehead51 woo

  The means of weakness and debility:

  Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,

  Frosty, but kindly54. Let me go with you.

  I'll do the service of a younger man

  In all your business and necessities.

  ORLANDO O good old man, how well in thee appears

  The constant58 service of the antique world,

  When service sweat for duty, not for meed59!

  Thou art not for the fashion of these times,

  Where none will sweat but for promotion,

  And having that, do choke their service up62

  Even with the having: it is not so with thee.

  But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree,

  That cannot so much as a blossom yield

  In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry66.

  But come thy ways67, we'll go along together,

  And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,

  We'll light upon some settled low content69.

  ADAM Master, go on, and I will follow thee

  To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.

  From seventeen years till now almost fourscore72

  Here lived I, but now live here no more.

  At seventeen years many their fortunes seek,

  But at fourscore it is too late a week75.

  Yet fortune cannot recompense me better

  Than to die well and not my master's debtor.

  Exeunt

  Act 2 Scene 4

  running scene 6

  Enter Rosalind for Ganymede, Celia for Aliena, and Clown alias Touchstone

  ROSALIND O Jupiter1, how merry are my spirits!

  TOUCHSTONE I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.

  Aside?

  ROSALIND 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 hose5 ought to show itself

  courageous to petticoat: therefore courage, good Aliena!

  CELIA I pray you bear with me. I cannot go no further.

  TOUCHSTONE For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear

  you: yet I should bear no cross9 if I did bear you, for I think

  you have no money in your purse.

  ROSALIND Well, this is the Forest of Arden.

  TOUCHSTONE 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.

  Enter Corin and Silvius

  ROSALIND Ay, be so, good Touchstone. Look you, who comes

  They stand aside

  here: a young man and an old in solemn16 talk.

  CORIN That is the way to make her scorn you still.

  SILVIUS O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her!

  CORIN I partly guess, for I have loved ere now.

  SILVIUS No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess,

  Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover

  As ever sighed 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 fantasy26?

  CORIN Into a thousand that I have forgotten.

  SILVIUS O, thou didst then never love so heartily28!

  If thou rememb'rest not the slightest folly29

  That ever love did make thee run into,

  Thou hast not loved.

  Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,

  Wearing33 thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,

  Thou hast not loved.

  Or if thou hast not broke from35 company

  Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,

  Thou ha
st not loved.

  O Phoebe38, Phoebe, Phoebe!

  Exit

  ROSALIND Alas, poor shepherd! Searching of thy wound39, I

  have by hard adventure40 found mine own.

  TOUCHSTONE And I mine. I remember when I was in love, I

  broke my sword upon a stone and bid him42 take that for

  coming a-night43 to Jane Smile. And I remember the kissing of

  her batler and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopt44 hands

  had milked; and I remember the wooing of a peascod45 instead

  of her, from whom I took two cods46 and, giving her them

  again, said with weeping tears, 'Wear47 these for my sake.' We

  that are true lovers run into strange capers48; but as all is

  mortal49 in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.

  ROSALIND Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware50 of.

  TOUCHSTONE Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit51 till I

  break my shins against it.

  ROSALIND Jove, Jove! This shepherd's passion

  Is much upon my fashion54.

  TOUCHSTONE And mine, but it grows something stale55 with me.

  CELIA I pray you one of you question yond56 man

  If he for gold will give us any food.

  I faint almost to death.

  To Corin

  TOUCHSTONE Holla, you clown59!

  ROSALIND Peace, fool, he's not thy kinsman.

  CORIN Who calls?

  TOUCHSTONE Your betters, sir.

  CORIN Else are they very wretched.

  ROSALIND Peace, I say. Good even64 to you, friend.

  CORIN And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.

  ROSALIND I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold

  Can in this desert place buy entertainment67,

  Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed:

  Here's a young maid with travel much oppressed

  And faints for succour70.

  CORIN 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 graze75:

  My master is of churlish disposition

  And little recks77 to find the way to heaven

  By doing deeds of hospitality.

  Besides, his cote, his flocks and bounds of feed79

  Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote80 now,

  By reason of his absence, there is nothing

  That you will feed on. But what is, come see,

  And in my voice83 most welcome shall you be.

  ROSALIND What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?

  CORIN That young swain that you saw here but erewhile85,

  That little cares for buying anything.

  ROSALIND I pray thee if it stand87 with honesty,

  Buy thou the cottage, pasture and the flock,

  And thou shalt have to pay89 for it of us.

  CELIA And we will mend90 thy wages. I like this place

  And willingly could waste91 my time in it.

  CORIN 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 feeder95 be

  And buy it with your gold right suddenly96.

  Exeunt

  Act 2 Scene 5

  running scene 7

  Enter Amiens, Jaques and others

  AMIENS Song

  Under the greenwood1 tree

  Who2 loves to lie with me,

  And turn his merry note3

  Unto the sweet bird's throat4,

  Come hither, come hither, come hither:

  Here shall he see no enemy

  But winter and rough weather.

  JAQUES More, more, I prithee more.

  AMIENS It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques.

  JAQUES I thank it. More, I prithee more.

  I can suck melancholy out of a song,

  As a weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee more.

  AMIENS My voice is ragged13. I know I cannot please you.

  JAQUES I do not desire you to please me,

  I do desire you to sing.

  Come, more: another stanzo16 -- call you 'em stanzos?

  AMIENS What you will, Monsieur Jaques.

  JAQUES Nay, I care not for their names. They owe me18

  nothing. Will you sing?

  AMIENS More at your request than to please myself.

  JAQUES Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you.

  But that they call compliment is like th'encounter22 of two

  dog-apes23, and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks I

  have given him a penny and he renders me the beggarly24

  thanks. Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your

  tongues.

  AMIENS Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the while27. The

  duke will drink under this tree. He hath been all this day to

  A table with food and drink is set out

  look29 you.

  JAQUES And I have been all this day to avoid him.

  He is too disputable31 for my company:

  I think of as many matters32 as he, but I give

  Heaven thanks and make no boast of them.

  Come, warble, come.

  Song. All together here

  Who doth ambition shun

  And loves to live i'th'sun36,

  Seeking the food he eats

  And pleased with what he gets,

  Come hither, come hither, come hither:

  Here shall he see etc.40

  JAQUES I'll give you a verse to this note

  Hands Amiens a paper

  That I made yesterday in despite of my invention42.

  AMIENS And I'll sing it. Thus it goes:

  Sings

  If it do come to pass

  That any man turn ass,

  Leaving his wealth and ease,

  A stubborn will to please,

  Ducdame48, ducdame, ducdame:

  Other lords gather around him in a circle, examining the paper

  Here shall he see gross49 fools as he,

  An if50 he will come to me.

  What's that 'ducdame'?

  JAQUES 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle52. I'll

  go sleep, if I can. If I cannot, I'll rail against all the first-born53

  of Egypt.

  AMIENS And I'll go seek the duke. His banquet55 is prepared.

  Exeunt [separately]

  Act 2 Scene 6

  running scene 7 continues

  Enter Orlando and Adam

  ADAM Dear master, I can go no further.

  Lies down

  O, I die for food! Here lie I down,

  And measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master.

  ORLANDO Why, how now, Adam? No greater heart in thee?

  Live a little, comfort5 a little, cheer thyself a little. If this

  uncouth6 forest yield anything savage, I will either be food for

  it or bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit7 is nearer death than

  thy powers. For my sake be comfortable8, hold death awhile at

  the arm's end. I will here be with thee presently9, and if I bring

  thee not something to eat, I will give thee leave to die. But if

  thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well

  said! Thou look'st cheerly12, 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

  anything in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam!

  Exeunt

  Act 2 Scene 7

  running scene 7 continues

  Enter Duke Senior and Lord[s], like outlaws

  DUKE SENIOR I think he be transfor
med into a beast,

  For I can nowhere find him like a man.

  FIRST LORD My lord, he is but even now gone hence:

  Here was he merry, hearing of a song.

  DUKE SENIOR If he, compact of jars5, grow musical,

  We shall have shortly discord in the spheres6.

  Go, seek him: tell him I would speak with him.

  Enter Jaques

  FIRST LORD He saves my labour by his own approach.

  DUKE SENIOR Why, how now, monsieur! What a life is this,

  That your poor friends must woo your company?

  What, you look merrily.

  JAQUES A fool, a fool! I met a fool i'th'forest,

  A motley13 fool -- a miserable world.

  As I do live by food, I met a fool

  Who laid him down and basked him in the sun,

  And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms,

  In good set terms17, and yet a motley fool.

  'Good morrow, fool', quoth I. 'No, sir,' quoth he,

  'Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune19.'

  And then he drew a dial from his poke20,

  And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,

  Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock,

  Thus we may see', quoth he, 'how the world wags23.

  'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine24,

  And after one hour more 'twill be eleven,

  And so, from hour to hour, we ripe26 and ripe,

  And then, from hour to hour, we rot27 and rot,

  And thereby hangs a tale28.' When I did hear

  The motley fool thus moral29 on the time,

  My lungs began to crow like chanticleer30,

  That fools should be so deep contemplative31,

  And I did laugh sans32 intermission

  An hour by his dial. O noble fool!

  A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear34.

  DUKE SENIOR What fool is this?

  JAQUES O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier,

  And says, if ladies be but young and fair,

  They have the gift to know it. And in his brain,

  Which is as dry as the remainder39 biscuit

  After a voyage, he hath strange places40 crammed

  With observation, the which he vents41

  In mangled forms. O, that I were a fool!

  I am ambitious for a motley coat.

  DUKE SENIOR Thou shalt have one.

  JAQUES It is my only suit45,

  Provided that you weed46 your better judgements

  Of all opinion that grows rank47 in them

  That I am wise. I must have liberty

  Withal, as large a charter49 as the wind,

  To blow on whom I please, for so fools have.

  And they that are most galled51 with my folly,

  They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so?

  The 'why' is plain as way to parish church53:

  He that a fool doth very wisely hit54

  Doth very foolishly, although he smart55,

  Seem senseless of the bob56. If not,

  The wise man's folly is anatomized57

  Even by the squandering glances58 of the fool.

  Invest59 me in my motley, give me leave

  To speak my mind, and I will through and through

  Cleanse61 the foul body of th'infected world,