Chapter XXXII: Act II: SCENE I. The Forest of Arden

_Enter_ DUKE senior, AMIENS, _and two or three_ Lords, _like foresters_.

_Duke S._ Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, 5 The seasons’ difference; as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind, Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say ‘This is no flattery: these are counsellors 10 That feelingly persuade me what I am.’ Sweet are the uses of adversity; Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head: And this our life exempt from public haunt 15 Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones and good in every thing. I would not change it.

_Ami._ Happy is your Grace, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style. 20

_Duke S._ Come, shall we go and kill us venison? And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, Being native burghers of this desert city, Should in their own confines with forked heads Have their round haunches gored.

_First Lord._ Indeed, my lord, 25 The melancholy Jaques grieves at that, And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp Than doth your brother that hath banish’d you. To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself Did steal behind him as he lay along 30 Under an oak whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood: To the which place a poor sequester’d stag, That from the hunter’s aim had ta’en a hurt, Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord, 35 The wretched animal heaved forth such groans, That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting, and the big round tears Coursed one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool, 40 Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears.

_Duke S._ But what said Jaques? Did he not moralize this spectacle?

_First Lord._ O, yes, into a thousand similes. 45 First, for his weeping into the needless stream; ‘Poor deer,’ quoth he, ‘thou makest a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much:’ then, being there alone, Left and abandon’d of his velvet friends; 50 ‘’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; 55 ’Tis just the fashion: wherefore do 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 60 Are mere usurpers, tyrants and what’s worse, To fright the animals and to kill them up In their assign’d and native dwelling-place.

_Duke S._ And did you leave him in this contemplation?

_Sec. Lord._ We did, my lord, weeping and commenting 65 Upon the sobbing deer.

_Duke S._ 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._

~~~~~ Linenotes: _As You Like It_, II, 1.

1: _brothers_] F1. _brother_ F2 F3 F4.

5: _but_] Theobald. _not_ Ff. _yet_ Staunton conj.

6: _as_] _or_ Collier MS. _at_ Staunton conj.

18: _I would not change it._ Ami. _Happy_] Dyce (Upton conj.). Amien. _I would not change it, happy_ Ff.

31: _root_] _roote_ F1. _roope_ F2. _roop_ F3 F4.

42: _the extremest_] _th’ extremest_ Ff.

45: _into_] Ff. _in_ Pope.

49: _had_] _hath_ Singer (Collier MS.).

_much_] F2 F3 F4. _must_ F1.

_there_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.

50: _friends_] Rowe. _friend_ Ff.

59: _the country_] F2 F3 F4. _countrie_ F1. _country, of_ Anon. conj.

62: _to kill_] _kill_ Collier MS.

_up_] _too_ De Quincy MS.
~~~~~

SCENE II. _A room in the palace._

_Enter_ DUKE FREDERICK, _with_ Lords.

_Duke F._ 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, 5 Saw her a-bed, and in the morning early They found the bed untreasured of their mistress.

_Sec. Lord._ My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft Your Grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. Hisperia, the princess’ gentlewoman, 10 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, 15 That youth is surely in their company.

_Duke F._ 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 20 To bring again these foolish runaways. [_Exeunt._

~~~~~ Linenotes: _As You Like It_, II, 2.

8: _roynish_] _roguish_ Staunton conj.

10: _Hisperia_] Ff. _Hesperia_ Warburton.

17: _brother_] _brother’s_ Mason conj.

20: _quail_] _fail_ Lloyd conj. ~~~~~

SCENE III. _Before_ OLIVER’S _house_.

_Enter_ ORLANDO _and_ ADAM, _meeting_.

_Orl._ 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? 5 And wherefore are you gentle, strong and valiant? Why would you be so fond to overcome The bonny priser of the humorous Duke? Your praise is come too swiftly home before you Know you not, master, to some kind of men 10 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! 15

_Orl._ 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, 20 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. 25 I overheard him and his practices. This is no place; this house is but a butchery: Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.

_Orl._ Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?

_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 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; 35 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 40 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; 45 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 50 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. 55

_Orl._ 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, 60 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. 65 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. 70 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 75 Than to die well and not my master’s debtor. [_Exeunt._

~~~~~ Linenotes: _As You Like It_, II, 3.

SCENE III. Before O.’s house] Capell. O.’s house. Rowe.

...meeting] Capell. om. Ff.

8: _bonny_] F2 F3 F4. _bonnie_ F1. _boney_ Warburton.

10: _some_] _seeme_ F1.

15: _bears_] _wears_ Anon. conj.

16: Orl.] om. F1.

17: _within_] _with_ F2.

_within this_] _beneath this_ Capell conj.

29: Orl.] Ad. F1.

30: _so_] F1. _for_ F2 F3 F4.

37: _blood_] _proud_ Collier MS.

39: _your_] F1. _you_ F2 F3 F4.

41: _lie_] _be_ De Quincy MS.

49: _in_] _to_ Capell conj.

50: _not_] _I_ Rowe.

57: _service_] _favour_ Collier MS. _temper_ Lettsom conj.

58: _service_] _servants_ Anon. ap. Halliwell conj.

71: _seventeen_] Rowe. _seauentie_ F1. _seventy_ F2 F3 F4.

74: _it...week_] _too late: it is a-weak_ Becket conj. ~~~~~

SCENE IV. _The Forest of Arden._

_Enter_ ROSALIND _for_ GANYMEDE, CELIA _for_ ALIENA, _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 5 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, if I did bear you; for 10 I think you have no money in your purse.

_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. 15

_Ros._ Ay, be so, good Touchstone.

_Enter_ CORIN _and_ SILVIUS.

Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in solemn talk.

_Cor._ That is the way to make her scorn you still.

_Sil._ O Corin, that thou knew’st how I do love her! 20

_Cor._ I partly guess; for I have loved 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,— 25 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.

_Sil._ O, thou didst then ne’er love so heartily! 30 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, Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress’ praise, 35 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._ 40

_Ros._ Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, 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 a-night to Jane Smile: and I remember the kissing 45 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; 50 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. 55

_Ros._ Jove, Jove! this shepherd’s passion Is much upon my fashion.

_Touch._ And mine; but it grows something stale with me.

_Cel._ I pray you, one of you question yond man If he for gold will give us any food: 60 I faint almost to death.

_Touch._ Holla, you clown!

_Ros._ Peace, fool: he’s not thy kinsman.

_Cor._ Who calls?

_Touch._ Your betters, sir.

_Cor._ Else are they very wretched.

_Ros._ Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend.

_Cor._ And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. 65

_Ros._ 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.

_Cor._ Fair sir, I pity her 70 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 75 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 80 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 young swain that you saw here but erewhile, That little cares for buying any thing. 85

_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. 90

_Cor._ 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._ 95

~~~~~ Linenotes: _As You Like It_, II, 4.

SCENE IV...Enter...] Enter Rosaline...and Clowne, alias Touchstone. Ff.

1: _weary_] Theobald (Warburton). _merry_ Ff.

8: _cannot_] F1. _can_ F2 F3 F4.

13: _Arden_] _a den_ Upton conj.

16, 17: S. Walker would read as verse _Ay, Be so...here; A young...talk._

16: Enter C. and S.] Ff (after line 15).

24: _ever_] F1. _ere_ F2 F3 F4.

30: _ne’er_] Rowe. _never_ Ff.

34: _sat_] F1. _sate_ F2 F3 F4. _spake_ Collier MS.

35: _Wearing_] F1. _Wearying_ F2 F3 F4. _Wear’ing_ Grant White.

39: [Exit.] F1. Exeunt. F2 F3 F4.

41: _of thy wound_] Rowe. _of they would_ F1. _of their wound_ F2 F3 F4.

45: _a-night_] _a night_ F1. _a nights_ F2 F3 F4. _o’ nights_ Capell. _o’ night_ Malone.

46: _batlet_] F2 F3 F4. _batler_ F1.

48: _cods_] _peas_ Johnson conj.

56: _Jove, Jove_] _Love, Love_ Collier (Collier MS.).

57: _much upon_] _too much on_ Collier (from Collier MS).

58: After this line Collier (from Collier MS.) inserts _And begins to fail with me._

59: _yond_] _you’d_ Ff.

63: _are they very_] _they are_ Rowe (ed. 1) _they are very_ Rowe (ed. 2). _they’re very_ Hanmer.

64: _you,_] _your_ F1.

73: _shepherd_] _a shepherd_ Rowe.

76: _recks_] Hanmer. _wreakes_ F1 F2. _wreaks_ F3 F4.

78: _cote_] Hanmer. _coate_ F1 F2. _coat_ F3 F4.

89, 90: Arranged as in Cappell. As three lines ending _wages...could...it_ Ff. As three lines ending _wages...waste...it_ Rowe (ed. 2).

89: _wages_] _wage_ Lloyd conj.

94: _feeder_] _factor_ W. Walker conj. ~~~~~

SCENE V. _The forest._

_Enter_ AMIENS, JAQUES, _and others._

SONG.

_Ami._ 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: 5
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.

_Jaq._ More, more, I prithee, more.

_Ami._ It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. 10

_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 15 sing. Come, more; another stanzo: call you ’em stanzos?

_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. 20

_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 25 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 30 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.

Who doth ambition shun, [_All together here._
And loves to live i’ the sun, 35
Seeking the food he eats,
And pleased with what he gets,
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Here shall he see
No enemy 40
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:— 45

If it do come to pass
That any man turn ass,
Leaving his wealth and ease
A stubborn will to please,
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame: 50
Here shall he see
Gross fools as he,
An if he will come to me.

_Ami._ What’s that ‘ducdame’?

_Jaq._ ’Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. 55 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._

~~~~~ Linenotes: _As You Like It_, II, 5.

1: _Ami._] Capell. om. Ff.

_greenwood_] _greenhood_ F4.

3: _turn_] F3 F4. _turne_ F1 F2. _tune_ Rowe (ed. 2).

6: _Here_] Cho. _Here_ Capell.

_he_] _we_ Capell (corrected in MS.).

11–13: Printed in Ff as three lines ending _more...song...more._

14: _ragged_] _rugged_ Rowe.

16: _Come, more_] _Come, come_ Rowe.

_stanzo...stanzos_] _stanza...stanzas_ Steevens (Capell conj.).
_stanze...stanzes_ Anon. conj.

18: _owe_] F1. _owne_ F2. _own_ F3 F4.

22: _compliment_] _complement_ Ff.

28: _drink_] _dine_ Rowe.

30–33: _And......them_] Printed as four lines ending _him...company:...give...them._ in Ff. First as prose by Pope.

34: [All together...] Altogether... Ff. om. Rowe.

35: _live_] _lye_ F4.

39: _Here_] Cho. _Here_ Capell.

39–41: _Here......weather_] F3 F4. _Heere shall he see, &c._ F1 F2.

39: _he_] _you_ Rowe.

44, 45: Ami. _And...it._ Jaq. _Thus it goes_] Amy. _And Ile sing it._ Amy. _Thus it goes._ F1.

50, 54: _Ducdame.........ducdame_] _Duc ad me....Duc ad me_ Hanmer. _Huc ad me...Huc ad me_ Anon. ap. Steevens conj.

53: _to me_] _to Ami._ Steevens (Farmer conj.). _to the same_ Anon. conj. ~~~~~

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.

_Orl._ Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little. If this 5 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 10 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 15 desert. Cheerly, good Adam! [_Exeunt._

~~~~~ Linenotes: _As You Like It_, II, 6.

1–3: Printed as three verses ending _further...downe...master_ in Ff. First as prose by Pope.

1: _I die_] _I die, I die_ S. Walker conj., making three lines ending _O...down...master._

4–16: Printed as seventeen lines in Ff. First as prose by Pope.

5: _comfort_] _comfort thee_ Anon. conj.

8: _comfortable_] _comforted_ Collier MS. (Caldecott).

9: _here be_] _be here_ Rowe.

10: _I will_] _I’ll_ Pope.

12: _cheerly_] F4. _cheerely_ F1 F2 F3. _cheerily_ Reed. ~~~~~

SCENE VII. _The forest._

_A table set out. Enter_ DUKE senior, AMIENS, _and_ Lords _like_ outlaws.

_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, 5 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 S._ Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this, That your poor friends must woo your company? 10 What, you look merrily!

_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, 15 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, 20 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; 25 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, 30 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 S._ What fool is this? 35

_Jaq._ 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 40 With observation, the which he vents In mangled forms. O that I were a fool! I am ambitious for a motley coat.

_Duke S._ Thou shalt have one.

_Jaq._ It is my only suit; Provided that you weed your better judgements 45 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, 50 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, 55 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, 60 If they will patiently receive my medicine.

_Duke S._ Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst 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, 65 As sensual as the brutish sting itself; And all the embossed sores and headed evils, That thou with license of free foot hast caught, Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.

_Jaq._ Why, who cries out on pride, 70 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 75 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, 80 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, 85 Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies, Unclaim’d of any man. But who comes here?

_Enter_ ORLANDO, _with his sword drawn_.

_Orl._ Forbear, and eat no more.

_Jaq._ Why, I have eat none yet.

_Orl._ Nor shalt not, till necessity be served.

_Jaq._ Of what kind should this cock come of? 90

_Duke S._ 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?

_Orl._ You touch’d my vein at first: the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta’en from me the show 95 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.

_Jaq._ An you will not be answered with reason, I 100 must die.

_Duke S._ What would you have? Your gentleness shall force, More than your force move us to gentleness.

_Orl._ I almost die for food; and let me have it.

_Duke S._ Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. 105

_Orl._ 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, 110 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, If ever sat at any good man’s feast, 115 If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear And know what ’tis to pity and be pitied, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be: In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword.

_Duke S._ True is it that we have seen better days, 120 And have with holy bell been knoll’d to church And sat at good men’s feasts and wiped our eyes Of drops that sacred pity hath engender’d: And therefore sit you down in gentleness And take upon command what help we have 125 That to your wanting may be minister’d.

_Orl._ Then but forbear your food a little while, Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn And give it food. There is an old poor man, Who after me hath many a weary step 130 Limp’d in pure love: till he be first sufficed, Oppress’d with two weak evils, age and hunger, I will not touch a bit.

_Duke S._ Go find him out, And we will nothing waste till you return.

_Orl._ I thank ye; and be blest for your good comfort! 135

[_Exit._

_Duke S._ Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy: This wide and universal theatre Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in.

_Jaq._ All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players: 140 They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms. Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel 145 And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 150 Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, 155 Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide 160 For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, 165 Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.

_Re-enter_ ORLANDO, _with_ ADAM.

_Duke S._ Welcome. Set down your venerable burthen, And let him feed.

_Orl._ I thank you most for him.

_Adam._ So had you need: I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. 170

_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.

SONG.

_Ami._ Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind 175
As man’s ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly: 180
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky
That dost not bite so nigh 185
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remember’d not.
Heigh-ho! sing, &c. 190

_Duke S._ If that you were the good Sir Rowland’s son, As you have whisper’d faithfully you were, And as mine eye doth his effigies witness Most truly limn’d and living in your face, Be truly welcome hither: I am the Duke 195 That loved your father: the residue of your fortune, Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man, Thou art right welcome as thy master is. Support him by the arm. Give me your hand, And let me all your fortunes understand. [_Exeunt._ 200

~~~~~ Linenotes: _As You Like It_, II, 7.

SCENE VII. A table set out] Rowe.

Enter...] Enter Duke Sen. & Lord,... Ff.

10: After this line Capell inserts _And cannot have ’t?_

13: _miserable world_] _miserable varlet_ Hanmer (Warburton). _miserable word_ Becket conj. _miserable!—well,—_ Jackson conj. _miserable ort_ Hunter conj.

25: _one_] _an_ Reed (1803).

31: _deep-contemplative_] Reed.

34–36: _A worthy...O worthy_] _O worthy...A worthy_ Anon. conj.

53: _He that_] _He whom_ Pope.

54, 55: _Doth very foolishly,...Not to seem_] _Doth, very foolishly...Seem_ Whiter conj.

55: _Not to seem senseless_] Theobald (Warburton). _Sceme senselesse_ Ff. _But to seem senseless_ Collier (Collier MS.). _Seem else than senseless_ or _Seem less than senseless_ Anon. conj.

56: _wise man’s_] _Wise-man’s_ F1 F2 F3. _wise-man’s_ F4.

64: _sin_] _fin_ F1.

66: _sting_] _sty_ Johnson conj.

73: _weary very means_] F3 F4. (_meanes_ F3). _wearie verie meanes_ F1 F2. _very very means_ Pope. _weary venom means_ Jackson conj. _very wearing means_ Collier conj. _very means of wear_ Collier MS. _wearer’s very means_ Singer. _weary-very means_ or _very-weary means_ Staunton conj. _tributary streams_ Lloyd conj.

83: _There then; how then? what then?_] _There then, how then, what then,_ Ff. _There then; how, what then?_ Capell. _Where then? how...then?_ Malone conj.

_what then? Let me_] _Let me then_ Hanmer.

87: _any....comes_] F2 F3 F4. _any man. But who come_ F1.

Enter......drawn.] Theobald. Enter Orlando. Ff.

90: _Of what_] _What_ Capell conj.

_come of_] _come_ Rowe.

95: _hath_] F1. _that hath_ F2 F3 F4.

_ta’en_] _torn_ Johnson conj.

100, 101: Printed as verse, ending _reason...die_ in Ff. First as prose by Capell. _If...not Be...die_ Pope.

100: _An_] _And_ Ff. _If_ Pope.

_answered_] _answer’d_ Ff.

_reason_] _reasons_ Staunton conj.

102, 103: As three lines ending _have?...your force...gentleness_ in Ff.

109: _commandment_] _command’ment_ Ff.

119: _blush_] F1. _bush_ F2 F3 F4.

125: _command_] _demand_ Johnson conj. _commend_ Collier (Collier MS.).

130: _a_] om. F4.

132: _Oppressed....hunger_] Should follow line 129. Anon. conj.

135: [Exit.] Rowe. om. Ff.

139: _Wherein we play in_] _Wherein we play_ Pope. _Which we do play in_ Capell conj.

_Wherein..._ Jaq. _All_] _Wherein in we play._ Jaq. _Why, all_
Steevens conj. _wherein we play._ Jaq. _Ay, all_ Anon. conj.

141: _exits_] _Exits_ (in italics) Ff.

143: _ages_] _labours_ Mason conj.

_At first_] _As first_ Capell conj. _Act first_ or _First_ Anon.
conj.

145: _Then_] _And then_ Rowe (ed. 2). _Then there’s_ Anon. conj.

150: _pard_] _Pand_ Anon. conj.

161: _shank_] F3 F4. _shanke_ F1 F2. _shanks_ Hanmer.

167, 168: _Welcome...feed_] Printed as prose in Ff.

174: Ami.] Amiens sings. Johnson. om. Ff.

175–178: As two lines in Ff.

178: _Because_] _Beside,_ Becket conj.

_Because...seen_] _Thou causest not that teen_ Hanmer. _Because
the heart’s not seen_ Farmer conj. _Because thou art foreseen_
Staunton conj.

_seen_] _sheen_ Warburton.

182: _Then,_] Rowe. _The_ Ff.

184–189: As four lines in Ff.

189: _remember’d_] _remembering_ Hanmer.

198: _master_] _masters_ F1. ~~~~~