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 batler, and the
cow's dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember
the wooing of 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
mortalin 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 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 Ensman.
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 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 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
faithfulfeeder be,
And buy it with your gold right suddenly. Exeunt
SCENE V.
Another part of the forest
Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and OTHERS
SONG
AMIENS. 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
melancholyout 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 th'
encounter of two dog-apes;
and when a man thanks me
heartily,
methinks 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 to
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' th' sun,
Seeking the food he eats,
And pleas'd 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 prepar'd.
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 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 the
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 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
anything 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
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
shortlydiscord 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 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 anatomiz'd
Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool.
Invest me in my motley; give me leave