I

Peace, I say:- Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues.

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,
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdàme;
Here shall he see,
Gross fools as he,

An if he will come to Ami.

Ami. What's that ducdàme?

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

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 to eat, I'll give thee leave to die: but if thou diest thee presently; and if I bring thee not something Well said! thou look'st cheerly: and I'll be with before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. thee quickly.-Yet thou liest in the bleak air: Ami. My voice is ragged; I know, I cannot shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any Come, I will bear thee to some shelter; and thou please you. Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! [Exe. you to sing: Come, more; another stanza; Call SCENE VII.-The same. A table set out. Enter you them stanzas? Duke senior, Amiens, Lords, and others.

Ragged and rugged had formerly the same meaning.

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, (5) Disputatious. (4) Made up of discords.

Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life
is this,

That your poor friends must woo your company?
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,
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 may we see, quoth he, how the world wags:
'Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine;
And after an 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 S. What fool is this?

Jaq. O worthy fool!-One that hath been
courtier ;

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 bravery2 is not on my cost
(Thinking that I mean him,) but therein suits
His folly to the mettle of my speech?
There then; How, 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.
Orl. Forbear, and eat no more.
Jaq.
Why, I have eat none yet.
Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd.
Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of?
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
Of smooth civility: yet am I inland bred,'
And know some nurture: But forbear, I say;
He dies, that touches any of this fruit,
a Till I and my affairs are answered.

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 bisket
After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd
With observation, the which he vents

It is my only suit;

In mangled forms:-O, that I were a fool!
I am ambitious for a motley coat.
Duke S. Thou shalt have one.
Jaq.
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 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 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,
As sensual as the brutish sting itself;
And all the embossed sores, and headed evils
That thou with license of free foot hast caught,
Would'st thou disgorge into the general world.
Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride,
That can therein tax any private party?
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,
Fill that the very very means do ebb?
What woman in the city do I name,
When that I say, The city-woman bears

(1) The fool was anciently dressed in a partycoloured coat.

Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, I must die.

Duke S. What would you have? Your gentle-
ness 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, welcome to our
table.

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,
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;
If ever from your eye-lids wip'd 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;

And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church;
And sat at good men's feasts; and wip'd 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,
That to your wanting may be ministred.

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
Limp'd in pure love; till he be first suffic'd,-
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 bless'd for your good
[Exit.

comfort!

(2) Finery. (3) Well brought up.
(4) Good manners.

Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone un-[As you have whisper'd faithfully, you were;
happy:

Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's

Duke S. If that you were the good sir Row-sheep; and that a great cause of the night, is lack

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.

Cor. Nay, I hope,

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.

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,
Let him seek out Rosalind.
If the cal will after kind,
So, be sure, will Rosalind.
Winter-garments must be lin'd,
So must slender Rosalind.

They that reap, must sheaf and bind ;
Then to cart with Rosalind.
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,
Such a nut is Rosalind.

He that sweetest rose will find,
Must find love's prick, and Rosalind.
is the very false gallop of verses; Why do

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 This
mockable at the court. You told me, you salute you infect yourself with them?
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; and their fells, you know, are greasy.

Ros. Peace, you dull fool; I found them on a tree.
Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.

Ros. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graft it with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit in the country: for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar. Touch. You have said; but whether wisely or

Touch. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? and is not the grease of a mutton as whole-no, let the forest judge. some 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

r birth than tar; the very uncleanly flux of a 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.

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 13, 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 Celia, reading a paper.

Ros. Peace!

Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside.
Cel. Why should this desert silent be?
For it is unpeopled? No;
Tongues I'll hang on every tree,
That shall civil sayings show.
Some, how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage;
That the stretching of a span
Buckles in his sum of age.
Some, of violated vows

'Twixt the sculs of friend and friend
But
upon the fairest boughs,
Or at every sentence' end,
Will I Rosalinda write;

Teaching all that read, to know
The quintessence of every sprite
Heaven would in little show.
Therefore heaven nature charg'd

That one body should be fill'd
With all graces wide enlarg'd:
Nature presently distill'd
Helen's cheek, but not her heart;
Cleopatra's majesty;
Atalanta's better part;

Sad Lucretia's modesty.
Thus Rosalind of many parts

By heavenly synod was devis'd;
Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,

To have the touches dearest priz'd.
Heaven would that she these gifts snould have,
And I to live and die her slave.

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; (5) Features.

for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear.

Cel. That's no matter; the feet might bear the

verses.

Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse.

Cel. There lay he, stretch'd along, like a wounded

Cel. But didst thou hear, without wondering how thy name should be hang'd and carv'd upon knight. these trees?

Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it Ros. I was seven of the nine days out of the well becomes the ground.

wonder, before you came; for look here what I Cel. Cry, holla! to thy tongue, I pr'ythee; it found on a palm-tree: I was never so be-rhymed curvets very unseasonably. He was furnish'd like since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, hunter. which I can hardly remember.

Cel. Trow you, who hath done this?
Ros. Is it a man?

Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck: Change you colour?

Ros. Nay, but who is it?

Cel. Is it possible?

Ros. Nay, I pray thee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is.

Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all whooping!!

Ros. Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I am caparison'd like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more is a South-sea-off discovery. I pr'ythee, tell me, who is it? quickly, and speak apace: I would thou could'st stammer, that thou might'st pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow-mouth'd bottle; either too much at once, or none at all. I pr'ythee, take the cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy tidings. Cel. So you may put a man in your belly. Ros. Is he of God's making? What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard?

Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard.

a

Ros. O ominous! he comes to kill my heart. Cel. I would sing my song without a burden: thou bring'st me out of tune.

Ros. Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on.

Enter Orlando and Jaques.

Cel. You bring me out:-Soft! comes he not here? Ros. 'Tis he; slink by, and note him. [Celia and Rosalind retire. Jaq. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.

I

Orl. And so had I: but yet, for fashion's sake, thank you too for your society.

Jaq. God be with you; let's meet as little as we can.

Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers. Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love-songs in their barks.

Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly.

Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name?
Orl. Yea, just.

Jaq. I do not like her name.

Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you, when she was christen'd.

Jaq. What stature is she of? Orl. Just as high as my heart. Jaq. You are full of pretty answers: Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conn'd them out of rings?

Ros. Why, God will send more, if the man will be thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, Orl. Not so; but I answer you right painted if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. cloth, from whence you have studied your quesCel. It is young Orlando; that tripp'd up the tions. wrestler's heels, and your heart, both in an instant. Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking; speak sad brow, and true maid.2

Cel. I'faith, coz, 'tis he.
Ros. Orlando ?

Cel. Orlando.

Ros. Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and hose?-What did he, when thou saw'st him? What said he? How look'd he? Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee? and when shalt thou see him again? Answer me in one word.

Cel. You must borrow me Garagantua's mouth first: 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's size: To say, ay, and no, to these particulars, is more than to answer in a catechism.

Ros. But doth he know that I am in the forest, and in man's apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled?

Cel. It is as easy to count atomies,' as to resolve

(1) Out of all measure.

(2) Speak seriously and honestly. (3) How was he dressed?

Jaq. You have a nimble wit; I think it was made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me? and we two will rail against our mistress the world, and all our misery.

Orl. I will chide no breather in the world, but myself; against whom I know most faults.

Jaq. The worst fault you have, is to be in love. Orl. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you.

Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool, when I found you.

Orl. He is drown'd in the brook; look but in, and you shall see him.

Jaq. There shall I see mine own figure.

Orl. Which I take to be either a fool, or a cypher.

Jaq. I'll tarry no longer with you: farewell. good signior love.

Orl. I am glad of your departure; adieu, gooa monsieur melancholy.

[Exit Jaques.-Celia and Rosalind come forward

(4) The giant of Rabelais. (5) Motes. (6) An allusion to the moral sentences on oid tapestry hangings.