Unto the sweet bird’s throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither.
5
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.
10
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 ragged, I know I cannot please you.
JAQUES I do not desire you to please me, I do desire you
15
to sing. Come, more, another stanzo. Call you ’em
stanzos?
AMIENS What you will Monsieur Jaques.
JAQUES Nay, I care not for their names, they owe me
nothing. Will you sing?
20
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’encounter
of two dog-apes. And when a man thanks me heartily,
methinks I have given him a penny and he renders me
25
the beggarly thanks. Come sing; and you that will not,
hold your tongues.
AMIENS 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.
30
JAQUES 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.
AMIENS [Sings.]
Who doth ambition shun,
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And loves to live i’th’ sun,
Seeking the food he eats,
And pleas’d with what he gets,
ALL Come hither, come hither, come hither.
Here shall he see
40
No enemy,
But winter and rough weather.
JAQUES I’ll give you a verse to this note, that I made
yesterday in despite of my invention.
AMIENS And I’ll sing it.
45
JAQUES Thus it goes.
If it do come to pass
That any man turn ass,
Leaving his wealth and ease,
A stubborn will to please,
50
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame,
Here shall he see
Gross fools as he,
And if he will come to me.
AMIENS What’s that ‘ducdame’?
55
JAQUES ’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.
AMIENS And I’ll go seek the Duke; his banquet is
prepared. Exeunt.
60
2.6 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.
ORLANDO Why how now Adam? No greater heart in
thee? Live a little, comfort a little, cheer thyself a little.
5
If this uncouth forest yield anything 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
10
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 lookst cheerly, 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
15
lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this desert.
Cheerly good Adam. Exeunt.
2.7 Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS and Lords, like outlaws.
DUKE SENIOR I think he be transform’d into a beast,
For I can nowhere 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 SENIOR If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
5
We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.
Go seek him, tell him I would speak with him.
1 LORD He saves my labour by his own approach.
Enter JAQUES.
DUKE SENIOR
Why how now monsieur? What a life is this,
That your poor friends must woo your company?
10
What, you look merrily?
JAQUES A fool, a fool! I met a fool i’th’ 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,
15
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,
20
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 wags:
’Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after one hour more ’twill be eleven;
25
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,
30
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 SENIOR What fool is this?
35
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 remainder biscuit
After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm’d
40
With observation, the which he vents
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 suit,
Provided that you weed your better judgements
45
Of all opinion that grows rank in them
That I am wise. I must have liberty
Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please, for so fools have;
And they that are most galled with my folly,
50
They most must laugh. And why sir must they so?
The why is plain as way to parish church.
He that a fool doth very wisely hit
Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
Not to seem senseless of the bob. If not,
55
The wiseman’s folly is anatomiz’d
Even by the squand’ring glances of the fool.
Invest me in my motley. Give me leave
To speak my mind, and I will through and through
Cleanse the foul body of th’infected world,
60
If they will patiently rece
ive my medicine.
DUKE SENIOR
Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do.
JAQUES What, for a counter, would I do but good?
DUKE SENIOR
Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin.
For thou thyself hast been a libertine,
65
As sensual as the brutish sting itself,
And all th’embossed sores and headed evils
That thou with licence of free foot hast caught
Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.
JAQUES Why who cries out on pride,
70
That can therein tax any private party?
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,
Till that the weary very means do ebb?
What woman in the city do I name,
When that I say the city-woman bears
75
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?
Who can come in and say that I mean her,
When such a one as she, such is her neighbour?
Or what is he of basest function,
That says his bravery is not on my cost,
80
Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits
His folly to the mettle of my speech?
There then! How then? What then? Let me see
wherein
My tongue hath wrong’d him: if it do him right,
Then he hath wrong’d himself; if he be free,
85
Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies
Unclaim’d of any man. But who comes here?
Enter ORLANDO with sword drawn.
ORLANDO Forbear, and eat no more.
JAQUES Why, I have eat none yet.
ORLANDO Nor shalt not till necessity be served.
90
JAQUES Of what kind should this cock come of?
DUKE SENIOR
Art thou thus bolden’d man by thy distress?
Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
That in civility thou seem’st so empty?
ORLANDO
You touch’d my vein at first: the thorny point
95
Of bare distress hath ta’en from me the show
Of smooth civility. Yet am I inland bred,
And know some nurture. But forbear, I say,
He dies that touches any of this fruit,
Till I and my affairs are answered.
100
JAQUES
And you will not be answered with reason, I must
die.
DUKE SENIOR
What would you have? Your gentleness shall force,
More than your force move us to gentleness.
ORLANDO I almost die for food, and let me have it.
DUKE SENIOR
Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.
105
ORLANDO Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you.
I thought that all things had been savage here,
And therefore put I on the countenance
Of stern commandment. But whate’er you are
That in this desert inaccessible
110
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;
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If ever from your eyelids wip’d a tear,
And know what ’tis to pity and be pitied,
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be;
In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword.
DUKE SENIOR True is it that we have seen better days,
120
And have with holy bell been knoll’d to church,
And sat at good men’s feasts, and wip’d our eyes
Of drops that sacred pity hath engender’d;
And therefore sit you down in gentleness,
And take upon command what help we have
125
That to your wanting may be minister’d.
ORLANDO Then but forbear your food a little while,
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn,
And give it food. There is an old poor man,
Who after me hath many a weary step
130
Limp’d in pure love; till he be first suffic’d,
Oppress’d with two weak evils, age and hunger,
I will not touch a bit.
DUKE SENIOR Go find him out,
And we will nothing waste till you return.
ORLANDO
I thank ye, and be blest for your good comfort. Exit.
135
DUKE SENIOR
Thou seest, we are not all alone unhappy:
The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works Page 67