Thou hast not lov'd: O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe ! Come hither, come hither, come hither; No enemy, But winter and rough weather. Jaq. More, more, I pr'ythee, more. Ami. It will make you melancholy, monsieur Jaques. suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel sucks Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. I can eggs: More, I pr'ythee, more. 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, 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 Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all na-you to sing: Come, more; another stanza; Call you ture 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 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. Good even to you, friend. Peace, I say : Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. Cor. Fair sir, I pity her. And wish for her sake, more than for mine own, Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed, [while, Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold: SCENE V.-The same. Ami. Under the greenwood tree, Unto the sweet bird's throat, [Exeunt. Ami. My voice is ragged; I know, I cannot please 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. thank you: but that they call compliment, is like Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll 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. 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. If it do come to pass, any man turn ass, Gross fools as he, An if he will come to me. 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 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 | He, that a fool doth very wisely hit, 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'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 cheerily 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 ! [Exeunt. : SCENE VII.-The same. 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. 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. Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this, That your poor friends must woo your company? I met a fool i' the forest, Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags: A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear. Duke S. What fool is this? [tier; Jaq. O worthy fool!--One that hath been a courAnd say, 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 In mangled forms :-O, that I were a fool! Doth very foolishly, although he smart, Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride, That says, his bravery is not on my cost, Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn. [tress; 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, Till I and my affairs are answered. Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, I must die. [shall force Duke S. What would you have? Your gentleness 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. 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, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church; And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church; Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while, I will not touch a bit. Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Jaq. And then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel, Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice; Duke S. Welcome: Set down your venerable burAnd let him feed. [den, Orl. I thank you most for him. I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. AMIENS sings. SONG. I. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! unto the green holly: II. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, As friend remember'd not. Duke S. If that you were the good sir Rowland's That lov'd your father: The residue of your fortune, ACT III. SCENE I.-A Room in the Palace. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, OLIVER, Lords, Duke F. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be : But were I not the better part made mercy, I should not seek an absent argument Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine, Oli. O, that your highness knew my heart in this! I never lov'd my brother in my life. Duke F. More villain thou.-Well, push him out And let my officers of such a nature [of doors; Make an extent upon his house and lands: Do this expediently, and turn him going. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The Forest. Enter ORLANDO, with a paper. Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love: And thou, thrice crowned queen of night, survey With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth sway. O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books, And in their barks my thoughts I'll character; That every eye, which in this forest looks, Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where. Run, run, Orlando; carve, on every tree, The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE. [Exit. Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, mas ter Touchstone? Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's 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, lit fits my humour well; but as there is no more |