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Your brother-(no, no brother; yet the son-
This is no place, this house is but a butchery;
Orl. Why, whither, Adam, would'st thou have
Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. Orl. What, would'st thou have me go and beg my food?
Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce
The thrifty hire Í sav'd under your father,
Orl. O good old man; how well in thee appears
SCENE IV-The Forest of Arden.
Ros. O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits! Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.
Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my
(1) Mansion, residence.
(2) Blood turned from its natural course. (3) A piece of money stamped with a cross.
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.
Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further.
Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you, than bear you: yet I should bear no cross,3 if I did bear you; for, I think, you have no money in your
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 must be content.
Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone:-Look you who comes here; a young man, and an old, in solemn talk.
Enter Corin and Silvius.
Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! Cor. I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now. Sil. 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?
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,
Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy
I have by hard adventure found mine own. 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,5 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
Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale
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.
Fair sir, I pity her,
Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed,
Cor. That young swain that you saw here but erewhile,
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.
Cel. And we will mend thy wages: I like this place,
And willingly could waste my time in it.
Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold:
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 have given him a penny, and he records 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 dispútable 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.
Who doth ambition shun, [All together here. And loves to live i the sun,
Seeking the food he eats,
And pleas'd with what he gets,
Come hither, come hither, come hither;
But winter and rough weather.
Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I made yesterday in despite of my invention. Ami. And I'll sing it.
Jaq. Thus it goes:
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 circle. I'll go sleep if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail 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. Dear master, I can go no further: O, I die for food! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master.
Orl. 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 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! [Exe. SCENE VII-The same. A table set out. En
ter Duke senior, Amiens, Lords, and others. Duke S. I think he be transform'd into a beast; For I can no where 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 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. (3) Disputatious.
(4) Made up of discords.
AS YOU LIKE IT.
Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life
That your poor friends must woo your company?
Jaq. A fool, a fool!I met a fool i' the forest,
Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags:
Jaq. O worthy fool!-One that hath been
And says, if ladies be but young, and fair,
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:
The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd
Even by the squandering glances of the fool.
Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but good?
(1) The fool was anciently dressed in a party-
Who can come in, and say, that I mean her,
Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
Orl. You touch'd my vein at first; the thorny
Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show
Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason,
Duke S. What would you have? Your gentle-
Orl. I almost die for food, and let me have it.
Orl. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray
I thought that all things had been savage here;
Of stern commandment: But whate'er you are,
Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church;
Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while,
(3) Well brought up.
AS YOU LIKE IT.
Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone un- || As you have whisper'd faithfully, you were:
This wide and universal theatre
Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice;
And let him feed.
I thank you most for him.
Adam. So had you need;
I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
Duke S. Welcome, fall to: I will not trouble you As yet, to question you about your fortunes:Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! unto the green holly
Then, heigh, ho, the holly!
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
As friend remember'da not.
Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! &c.
And as mine eye doth his effigies witness
SCENE I-A room in the palace. Enter Duke
Duke F. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that can-
I should not seek an absent argument
Of my revenge, thou present: But look to it;
Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine,
Oli. O, that your highness knew my heart in this!
Duke F. More villain thou.-Well, push him
And let my officers of such a nature
SCENE II.-The Forest. Enter Orlando, with
Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of love:
Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth sway.
O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books,
Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where.
Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, master Touchstone?
is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it 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 thou any philosophy in thee, shepherd?
Cor. No more, but that I know, the more one sickens, 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
Duke S. If that you were the good sir Row-sheep; and that a great cause of the night, is lack
of the sun: That he, that hath learned no wit by
(5) Seize by legal process.
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.
Touch. Truly, thou art damn'd; like an illroasted 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; their fells, you know, are greasy.
Touch. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? and is not the grease of a mution 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. Shallow, 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 tar; the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd.
Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll rest. Touch. Wilt thou rest damn'd? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art raw.1
Cor. Sir, I am a true labourer; I earn that I eat, get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness; glad of other men's good, content with my harm: and the greatest of my pride is, to see my ewes graze, and my lambs suck.
Touch. That is another simple sin in you; to bring the ewes and the rams together, and to offer to get your living by the copulation of cattle: to be bawd to a bell-wether; and to betray a shelamb of a twelvemonth, to a crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou be'st not damn'd for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how thou should'st 'scape.
Cor. Here comes young master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother.
Enter Rosalind, reading a paper.
Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
Let no face be kept in mind,
Touch. I'll rhyme you so, eight years together;
dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted: it is the right butter-woman's rank to market. Ros. Out, fool!
Touch. For a taste:
If a hart do lack a hind,
He that sweetest rose will find,
This is the very false gallop of verses; Why do
Ros. Peace, you dull fool; I found them on a tree.
Ros. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit in the country: for you'll be rotten e'er you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar. Touch. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge.
Enter Celia, reading a paper.
Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside.
'Twixt the souls of friend and friend:
Teaching all that read, to know
That one body should be fill'd
Sad Lucretia's modesty.
To have the touches dearest priz'd.
Ros. O most gentle Jupiter!-what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cry'd, Have patience, good people!
Cel. How now! back friends;-Shepherd, go off a little :-Go with him, sirrah.
Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. [Exe. Cor. and Touch. Cel. Didst thou hear these verses?
Ros. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too;