The duke is humorous: what he is indeed, Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners : But yet indeed the smaller is his daughter: 280 But that the people praise her for her virtues, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. SCENE III-A Room in the Palace. Enter CELIA and ROSALIND. Exit. Duke F. 50 Thus do all traitors: If their purgation did consist in words, Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. Ros. So was I when your highness took his So was I when your highness banish'd him. 60 Cel. Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have Treason is not inherited, my lord; mercy! Not a word? Ros. The duke my father loved his father dearly. Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly! By this kind of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando. Ro. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well? Ros. Let me love him for that; and do you love him, because I do. Look, here comes the duke. Cel. With his eyes full of anger. Or, if we did derive it from our friends, Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. 70 Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay: Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her Her very silence and her patience, When she is gone. Then open not thy lips: I cannot live out of her company. Duke F. You are a fool. You, niece, provide If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, 89 Excunt Duke FREDERICK and Lords. Cel. O my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou go? Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am. Ros. I have more cause. 40 Prithee, be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke 100 Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one: 110 Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. Ros. A boar-spear in my hand; and,-in my heart That feelingly persuade me what I am.' Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. First Lord. Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison! Almost to bursting, and the big round tears Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a Cours'd one another down his innocent nos man? Ros. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's And therefore look you call me Ganymede. Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state: No longer Celia, but Aliena. Ros. But, cousin, what if we essay'd to steal Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; ACT II. SCENE I.-The Forest of Arden. Exeunt. Enter DUKE Senior, AMIENS, and other Lords, like Foresters. 30 40 In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool, Duke S. First Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes, 50 Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends; Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; Duke S. Now, my co-mates and brothers in In their assign'd and native dwelling-place. exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 10 Duke S. And did you leave him in this contemplation? Second Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and Upon the sobbing deer. Show me the place. Exeunt SCENE II.-A Room in the Palace. Enter Duke FREDERICK, Lords, and Attendants. It cannot be some villains of my court First Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, whom so oft Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles; 10 A thievish living on the common road? I rather will subject me to the malice crowns, The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father, Duke F. Send to his brother; fetch that gal- In all your business and necessities. lant hither; If he be absent, bring his brother to me; SCENE III.-Before OLIVER's House. 20 40 50 60 Orl. O good old man! how well in thee appears Adam. What! my young master? O my gentle But come thy ways, we 'll go along together, master! O my sweet master! O you memory 10 No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master, 0, what a world is this, when what is comely 20 Orl. Why, what's the matter? Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. 30 Orl. What! wouldst thou have me go and beg my food? Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, Adum. Master, go on, and I will follow thee SCENE IV. The Forest of Arden. Enter ROSALIND in boy's clothes, CELIA dressed like a shepherdess, and TOUCHSTONE. 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 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. 10 Touch. 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. Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden. Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone. Look you, Enter CORIN and SILVIUS. 21 who comes here; a young man and an old in | And little recks to find the way to heaven solemn talk. 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. Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture? Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. her! Cor. I partly guess, for I have lov'd ere now. 30 Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, 40 Or if thou hast not broke from company 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 a night to Jane Smile; and I remember the kissing of her batlet, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopped 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. Ros. Thou speakest 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 Cel. pray you, one of you question yond man If he for gold will give us any food: I faint almost to death. 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. 90 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. 100 Exeunt. Jaq. I thank it. More! I prithee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song as a weasel sucks eggs. More! I prithee, 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 'em 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 renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues. 31 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 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. Seeking the food he eats, And pleas'd with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he sce No enemy But winter and rough weather. Jaq. 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. Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I Good morrow, fool,' quoth I: No, sir,' quoth he, made yesterday in despite of my invention. Ami. And I'll sing it. Jaq. Thus it goes: If it do come to pass That any man turn ass, Leaving his wealth and ease, A stubborn will to please, Durdame, ducdame, ducdame: Here shall he see Gross fools as he, An if he will come to me. Ami. What's that ducdame? 50 59 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 prepared. Exeunt severally. SCENE VI.-Another Part of 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. 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 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 dinuer, if there live any thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam. Exeunt. SCENE VII.-Another Part of the Forest. A table set out. Enter 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. First 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. First Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach. '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: 20 Thus may we see,' quoth he, how the world wags: A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear. 30 Jaq. O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier, 41 And says, if ladies be but young and fair, The 'why' is plain as way to parish church: Duke S. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou would'st do. Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do but good? Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin: For thou thyself hast been a libertine, Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride, 70 |