The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works
Page 217
Augmenting it with tears.
DUKE SENIOR
But what said Jaques?
Did he not moralize this spectacle?
FIRST LORD
O yes, into a thousand similes.
First, for his weeping into 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 there
alone,
Left and abandoned of his velvet friend,
“Tis right,’ quoth he, ‘thus misery doth part
The flux of company.’ Anon a careless herd
Full of the pasture jumps along by him
And never stays to greet him. ‘Ay,’ quoth Jaques,
‘Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens,
’Tis just the fashion. Wherefore should you look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?’
Thus most invectively he pierceth through
The body of the country, city, court,
Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we
Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what’s worse,
To fright the animals and to kill them up
In their assigned and native dwelling place.
DUKE SENIOR
And did you leave him in this contemplation?
SECOND LORD
We did, my lord, weeping and commenting
Upon the sobbing deer.
DUKE SENIOR Show me the place.
I love to cope him in these sullen fits,
For then he’s full of matter.
FIRST LORD
I’ll bring you to him straight.
Exeunt
2.2 Enter Duke Frederick, with Lords
DUKE FREDERICK
Can it be possible that no man saw them?
It cannot be. Some villains of my court
Are of consent and sufferance 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 untreasured of their mistress.
SECOND LORD
My lord, the roynish clown at whom so oft
Your grace was wont to laugh is also missing.
Hisperia, the Princess’ gentlewoman,
Confesses that she secretly o’erheard
Your daughter and her cousin much commend
The parts 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 gallant hither.
If he be absent, bring his brother to me,
I’ll make him find him. Do this suddenly,
And let not search and inquisition quail
To bring again these foolish runaways.
Exeunt severally
2.3 Enter Orlando and Adam, meeting
ORLANDO Who’s there?
ADAM
What, my young master, O my gentle 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 bonny prizer of the humorous 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 more do yours. Your virtues, gentle master,
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.
O, what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms 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 praises, and this night he means
To burn the lodging where you use to lie,
And you within it. If he fail of that,
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.
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.
ORLANDO
Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?
ADAM
No matter whither, so you come not here.
ORLANDO
What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my 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 can.
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 saved 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.
ORLANDO
O good old man, how well in thee appears
The constant service of the antique world,
When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweat but for promotion,
And having that do choke their service up
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 husbandry.
But come thy ways. We’ll go along together,
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,
We’ll light upon some settled low content.
ADAM
Master, go on, and I will follow thee
To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
From seventeen years till now almost fourscore
Here livèd I, but now live here no more.
At seventeen years, many their fortunes seek,
But at fourscore, it is too late a week.
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better
Than to die well, and not my master’s debtor. Exeunt
2.4 Enter Rosalind in man’s clothes as Ganymede; Celia as Aliena, a shepherdess; and Touchstone the clown
ROSALIND O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits!
TOUCHSTONE I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.
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 hose 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 cross
if I did bear you, for I think you have no money in your purse.
ROSALIND Well, this is the forest of Ardenne.
TOUCHSTONE Ay, now am I in Ardenne; 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 here—a young man and an old in solemn talk.
CORIN (to Silvius)
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 fantasy?
CORIN
Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
SILVIUS
O, thou didst then never love so heartily.
If thou rememberest not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into,
Thou hast not loved.
Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress’ praise,
Thou hast not loved.
Or if thou hast not broke from company
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not loved.
O, Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe! Exit
ROSALIND
Alas, poor shepherd, searching of thy wound,
I have by hard adventure found mine own.
TOUCHSTONE And I mine. I remember when I was in love I broke my sword upon a stone and bid him take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile, and I remember the kissing of her batlet, and the cow’s dugs that her pretty chapped hands had milked; 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.
ROSALIND Thou speak’st wiser than thou art ware of.
TOUCHSTONE Nay, I shall ne’er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it.
ROSALIND
Jove, Jove, this shepherd’s passion
Is much upon my fashion.
TOUCHSTONE And mine, but it grows something stale with me.
CELIA
I pray you, one of you question yon man
If he for gold will give us any food.
I faint almost to death.
TOUCHSTONE (to Corin) Holla, you clown!
ROSALIND Peace, fool, he’s not thy kinsman.
CORIN Who calls?
TOUCHSTONE Your betters, sir.
CORIN Else are they very wretched.
ROSALIND (to Touchstone)
Peace, I say. (To Corin) Good even 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 entertainment,
Bring us where we may rest ourselves, and feed.
Here’s a young maid with travel much oppressed,
And faints for succour.
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 graze.
My master is of churlish disposition,
And little recks to find the way to heaven
By doing deeds of hospitality.
Besides, his cot, his flocks, and bounds of feed
Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now
By reason of his absence there is nothing
That you will feed on. But what is, come see,
And in my voice 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 erewhile,
That little cares for buying anything.
ROSALIND
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.
CELIA
And we will mend thy wages. I like this place,
And willingly could waste 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 feeder be,
And buy it with your gold right suddenly. Exeunt
2.5 Enter Amiens, Jaques, and other Lords dressed as foresters
[AMIENS] (sings)
Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird’s throat,
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 ragged, I know I cannot please you.
JAQUES I do not desire you to please me, I do desire you to sing. Come, more; another stanza. Call you ’em stanzas?
AMIENS What you will, Monsieur Jaques.
JAQUES Nay, I care not for their names, they owe me 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’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.
AMIENS Well, I’ll end the song.—Sirs, cover the while.
Lords prepare food and drink
The Duke will drink under this tree. (To Jaques) He hath been all this day to look you.
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.
ALL (sing)
Who doth ambition shun,
And loves to live i’th’ sun,
Seeking the food he eats
And pleased with what he gets,
Come hither, come hither, come hither.Here shall he see
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.
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,
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame.
Here shall he see
Gross fools as he,
An if he will come to me.
AMIENS What’s that ‘ducdame’?
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 firstborn of Egypt.
AMIENS And I’ll go seek the Duke; his banquet is prepared.
Exeunt
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 m
aster.
ORLANDO Why, how now, Adam? No greater heart in thee? Live a little, comfort a little, cheer thyself a little. 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 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 lookest 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 lack of a dinner if there live anything in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam. Orlando carries Adam off
2.7 Enter Duke Senior and Lords dressed as outlaws
DUKE SENIOR
I think he be transformed 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 jars, grow musical
We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.
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 motley foot—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 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 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.
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