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;
And 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 prunest a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossom yield
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry
But come thy ways; well 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 lived 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
SCENE IV. THE FOREST OF ARDEN.
Enter Rosalind for Ganymede, Celia for Aliena, and Touchstone
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 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.
Rosalind
Ay, be so, good Touchstone.
Enter Corin and Silvius
Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in solemn 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 sigh’d 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 ne’er love so heartily!
If thou remember’st 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,
Wearying 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 Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!
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 chopt 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 speakest 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 yond man
If he for gold will give us any food:
I faint almost to death.
Touchstone
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
Peace, I say. 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 oppress’d
And faints for succor.
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 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 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 any thing.
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
SCENE V. THE FOREST.
Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others
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 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?
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 the 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; the duke will drink under this tree. 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.
[Song]
All together here
Who doth ambition shun
And loves to live i’ the 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 first-born of Egypt.
Amiens
And I’ll go seek the duke: his banquet is prepared.
Exeunt severally
SCENE VI. THE FOREST.
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. 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 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 any thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam!
Exeunt
SCENE VII. THE FOREST.
A table set out. Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and Lords like outlaws
Duke Senior
I think he be transform’d into a beast;
For I can no where 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’ the 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,
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,
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
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
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?
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
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 judgments
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,
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,
The wise man’s folly is anatomized
Even by the squandering 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 the infected world,
If they will patiently receive 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,
As sensual as the b
rutish sting itself;
And all the 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,
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
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 of my cost,
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,
Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies,
Unclaim’d of any man. But who comes here?
Enter Orlando, with his sword drawn
Orlando
Forbear, and eat no more.
Jaques
Why, I have eat none yet.
Orlando
Nor shalt not, till necessity be served.
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
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.
Jaques
An 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.
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,
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,
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