Phebe, who was not so kind to him as he would like to have her. So affected
was he with his own story that the
mere mention of her name seemed
more than he could bear, and he
ran away to hide his feelings.
Poor Rosalind, hearing Silvius
talk so warmly of his love for Phebe,
finds that love has hurt her as badly
as it has the shepherd, and she says
sadly, —
Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of
thy wound,
I have by hard adventure found mine
own.
Touchsto7ie. And \ mine. I re-
member, when I was in love I broke
my sword upon a stone, and bid bim
take that for coming a-night to Jane
Smile : and I remember the kissing of her [clothes-pounder], and the cow's dugs
that her pretty chapped 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.
Rosalind. Love, love ! this shepherd's passion
Is much upon my fashion.
Touchstone. And mine ; but it grows something stale with me.
Celia, who by this time finds herself hungry as well as tired, thinks it
would be much better to get some food and a resting-place than to waste so
much time talking nonsense. She is afraid Corin will follow Silvius, and she
exclaims, —
I pray you, one of you question yond' man,
If he for gold will give us any food :
I faint almost to death.
Touchstone. Hallo, you clown !
Rosalind. Peace, fool: he 's not thy kinsman.
Cori?i. Who calls ?
Touchstone. Your betters, sir.
Corin. Else are they very wretched.
" Touchstone takes two pods from the dish of his kitchen love, as she is shelling peas, and
gives them to her again for ear-ornaments,
AS YOU LIKE IT. 105
Rosalind. Peace, I say. —
Good even to you, friend.
Corin. And to you, gentle sir ; and to you all.
Rosalind. I pr'ythee, 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 oppressed,
And faints for succor.
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 [cares] to find the way to heaven
By doing deeds of hospitality.
Besides, his cote, 1 his flocks, and [pasture-fields],
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 a 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 [just now],
That little cares for buying anything.
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 [spend] 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 faithful feeder be,
And buy it with your gold [immediately].
So Rosalind and Celia went with Corin to see the cottage, well pleased at the
prospect of even so humble a home as a shepherd's hut in the grand old forest.
1 Cottage.
a That is, as far as my voice has any power.
VII.
Scenes 5-7.
N an open glade in another part of the forest, the hunters and
lords had prepared a banquet under the trees for their exiled
Duke. While they were waiting for him, Amiens, to pass the
time, sang a merry song, Jaques and the rest joining in the
chorus.
SONG.
Under the green-wood tree,
Who loves to lie with me,
And tune his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither :
Here shall he see
A'o enemy
But winter and rough weather.
Jaques. More, more ! I pr'ythee, more.
Amiens. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques.
Jaques. I thank it. More ! I pr'ythee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a
song, as a weasel sucks eggs. More ! I pr'ythee, more.
Amiens. My voice is [rough] ; I know I cannot please you.
Jaques. I do not desire you to please me ; I do desire you to sing. Come, sing ;
and you that will not, hold your tongues.
Amie7is. Well, I '11 end the song. — Sirs, [set the table, meanwhile] ; the Duke will
drink under this tree. — He hath been all this day to look [for] you.
Jaques. 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.
' So they sing another verse of the song : —
Who doth ambition shuiij
And loves to live in the sun,
AS YOU LIKE IT. IO7
» Seeking the food he eats,
And pleased with what he gets,
Come hither, co77ie hither, come hither :
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
And then Jaques says that he will go somewhere and sleep, while the rest go to
seek the Duke, and bring him to the picnic feast.
In the mean time, in still another part of the forest, Orlando and Adam were
having a hard time. The journey had been long and tedious. They had brought
no food with them, and poor old Adam, who had dragged wearily along for many
hours, supported by Orlando's strong arm and loving heart, at last gave way entirely,
and sank down upon the ground, murmuring feebly, —
Dear master, I can go no further : O, I die for food ! Here lie I down, and meas-
ure out my grave. Farewell, kind master.
Orlando. Why, how now, Adam ! no greater heart in thee ? Live a little ; com-
fort a little ; cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield anything savage, a I will
either be food for it, or bring it for food to thee. For my sake be comforted ; hold
death awhile at the arm's end. I will be here with thee presently, and if I bring thee
not something to eat, I will give thee leave to die. Well [done] ! thou look'st cheerily ;
and I '11 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. Cheerily, good Adam !
Orlando folded the old man's scant cloak around his trembling form, and hav-
ing made him as comfortable as was possible there in the heart of the forest,
.said a few kind and cheering words, and departed.
While the young man was ranging the woods in search of some place which might
•offer shelter and food, the merry party of nobles had gathered again where their
banquet was spread. The Duke missed Jaques, and, unwilling to have the feast
begin without him, sent one of the lords to seek him. At the same moment they
saw him approaching in the distance, laughing to himself, as it were, over some
merry thought.
Now the thing that had so pleased Jaques was this. He had met Touchstone
lying under the trees in his funny parti-colored fool's-dress, and his cap and bells
(for Touchstone had not disguised himself, but wore the very clothes that belonged
to his office in the court), and it seemed to Jaques the drollest sight in the world,
to meet far away in the forest a Court Fool, a thing the most out of place that it was
possible to conceive.
" WTiy, how now, Monsieur ! " cried the Duke, as he drew nearer ; " what does
this mean? You seem to be merry ! "
a That is, any wild game.
IQ g SHAKESPEARE FOR THE YOUNG FOLK.
Jaques. A fool, a fool ! — I met a fool i' the forest.
As I do live by food, I met a fool ;
Who laid him down and basked him in the sun,
And railed 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." a
And then he drew a dial ' from his [pouch],
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 :
'T is but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after one hour more 't will 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, [without cessation],
An hour by his dial.
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.
But who comes here ?
Jaques might well exclaim, for, as he spoke, Orlando rushed madly into the
midst of the idle group, his sword drawn, and his face haggard with fatigue and
hunger. With a threatening gesture, he shouted, —
Forbear, and eat no more !
Jaques. Why, I have eat none yet.
Orlando. Nor shalt not, till necessity be served.
Jaques. Of what kind should this cock come of ?
Duke Senior. Art thou thus boldened, man, by thy distress,
Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
That in civility thou seem'st so empty ?
Orlando. You touched 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, b
i Watch.
a That is, " Call me not fool till I have got rich ; " alluding to the old proverb, " Fortune
favors fools," or, as is sometimes said now-a-days, " It takes a fool to make money."
b Inland bred — remote from the sea-shore, where the people were mostly coarse and
ill-bred.
AS YOU LIKE IT.
IO9
And know some nurture. 1 But forbear, I say:
He dies, that touches any of this fruit,
Till I and my affairs are answered.
Jaques. If you will not be answered with reason,
I must die.
Duke Senior. What would you have ? Your gentleness shall force,
More than your force move us to gentleness.
Orlando. I almost die for food, and let me have it.
1 Culture, breeding
IIO SHAKESPEARE FOR THE YOUNG FOLK.
Duke Senior. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.
Orlando. 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 looked on better days,
If ever been where bells have knolled to church,
If ever sat at any good man's feast,
If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear,
And know what 't is to pity and be pitied,
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be.
In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword. [Sheathes his sword.
Duke Senior. True is it that we have seen better days,
And have with holy bell been knolled to church,
And sat at good men's feasts, and wiped our eyes
Of drops that sacred pity hath engendered ;
And therefore sit you down in gentleness,
And take, upon command, what help we have,
That to your wanting may be ministered.
Orlando. Then, but forbear your food a little while,
While, 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
Limped in pure love : till he be first sufficed, —
Oppressed with two weak evils, age and hunger, —
I will not touch a bit.
Duke Senior. Go find him out,
And we will nothing waste till you return.
Orlando. I thank ye ; and be blessed for your good comfort !
When Orlando found how kindly he was received, he was ashamed of his vio-
lence, and, apologizing to the company, he hastened away to bring poor old Adam
where food and drink and comfort awaited him.
Then the Duke turned to Jaques, saying, —
Thou seest, we are not all alone unhappy :
This wide and universal theatre
Presents more woful pageants than the scene
Wherein we play.
Jaques {after a little reflection}. All the world 's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players :
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,
AS YOU LIKE IT. Ill
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then, a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 1
Jealous in honor, 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,
Full of wise saws and modern instances ; a
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, b
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in its sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ;
Sans 2 teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
As Jaques ended his long speech, Orlando entered, bearing old Adam in his
arms. The Duke welcomed them both heartily, and bade Orlando take all he
desired for himself and the old man, politely saying that he would not ask them
any questions about their misfortunes until they were rested and refreshed.
Amiens, at the request of the Duke, sang again for their entertainment, all the
others joining in the chorus as before.
song.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude j
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art foreseen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho / unto the green holly :
Mostfrieiidship is feigning, most loving mere folly :
Then, heigh, ho ! the holly !
This life is most jolly.
1 Leopard. 2 Without.
a Solemn sayings and worn-out anecdotes.
b The pantaloon was a common character in old Italian plays, and has come down to us
in the pantomime, together with harlequin, columbine, and the clown. He was always a thin
old man in slippers.
112 SHAKESPEARE FOR THE YOUNG FOLK.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot :
Though thou the waters warp*
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remembej-ed not.
Heigh, ho .' sing, etc.
This song, you see, was quite appropriate to the situation of many of the per-
sons of our story, who were preferring the rough but merry forest-life to the deceit
and cruelty found in cities and courts.
After seeing that Adam's needs were supplied, Orlando hastened to tell the
Duke about himself.
It was a great pleasure to the good Duke to learn that Orlando was the son of
his old friend Sir Rowland de Bois. He greeted the youth again most cordially,
and said to Adam : " Good old man, thou art right welcome, as thy master is.
Come to my cave, and tell me all : I would know everything." And the gracious
Duke — no longer in a court, but a gentleman still, even in the rough, wild forest —
raised the old man by the hand, and, directing one of the lords to lend the needed
support, led the way to his retreat.
a To warp is to weave (into a covering of ice). Old Saxon Proverb, " Winter shall warp
water."
u///:
VIII.
Act III. Scenes 1-3.
|EANWHILE, at the palace, Duke Frederick was angry enough
when all the search and questioning failed to bring back his
daughter Celia, or even any news of her. He found some
comfort, however, in scolding and threatening Oliver. The
latter certainly had reason for feeling guilty and unhappy
when he remembered his cruelty to Orlando ; but he really
knew nothing about the runaways, and said so quite earnestly.
The Duke would not believe him, for he was sure they were with Orlando, and
Oliver of course must know where to find his brother.
"Thou hast not seen him? " said the Duke angrily. " Sir, sir, that cannot be ;
if I were not a merciful man, I should take my revenge on thee ! Look to it ;
find out thy brother, wherever he may be, and bring him here alive or dead within
the year. Thy lands and all thy possessions are forfeit ; and we shall keep them
until thy brother's own lips shall prove thee innocent."
Oliver was not ashamed to hate Orlando, and to have cruelly driven him out
into the world ; but to be accused by the Duke of being in league with him to
steal away the pretty young princesses was too much, and he angrily exclaimed :
" I would your Highness knew my heart in this ! I never loved my brother in
my life ! "
" More villain thou ! " retorted the Duke.
If Oliver really fancied the Duke would like him the better for hating his
brother, he soon found his mistake ; for the Duke only told the officers to make
the more haste to turn him out of doors, and to seize his house and lands as
quickly as possible.
In the great Forest of Arden many different things were going on at once.
The Duke and his lords were living gayly, — enjoying their hunting, feasting,
and singing, and having little care for the world outside. Rosalind and Celia
(or Ganymede and Aliena) lived happily in the little cottage purchased from the
ii4
SHAKESPEARE FOR THE YOUNG FOLK.
shepherd, with Touchstone to serve them and divert them with his nonsense.
Orlando had little to do but to think of his love for Rosalind, now that Adam
was comfortably cared for among the kindly foresters.
Orlando seems to have been a poet, as lovers often fancy themselves to be,
with much less reason. He spent a great deal of time in writing verses in praise
of Rosalind, and although it is likely he did not care whether others read them
or not, he got a kind of comfort in merely expressing his feelings in these verses,
and hanging them here and there on the trees of the forest. It made him happy
also to carve the name of Rosalind on the bark of the trees with his hunting-knife.
One day he had just finished some verses, and as he fastened them on a tree, he
said to himself (for there certainly was no one to hear him), —
Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love :
And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, a 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 '11 character,
That every eye, which in this forest looks,
Shall see thy virtue witnessed everywhere.
Run, run, Orlando : carve on every tree
The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive b she.
After Orlando had left one tree that he might in the same way adorn another,
Corin, the old shepherd, came along with Touchstone. Strolling to an open space
where Corin's sheep could graze, they seated themselves under the huge trees
and went on with their conversation. Now, in spite of his motley dress and fool's
cap and bells, Touchstone liked to seem wise, and to give good advice on every
occasion. And Corin was quite ready to minister to this self-importance, for he
had the deepest respect for the superior knowledge of the gentleman from the
Court, and, in his eyes, Touchstone's gay attire seemed like the uniform of some
illustrious officer. When Corin humbly inquired, " And how like you this shep-
herd's life, Master Touchstone?" Touchstone answered with an air of profound
wisdom, —
Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life ; but in respect that it is a
shepherd's life, it is [bad]. 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, it fits my humor well ; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much
against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd ?
a Thrice-crowned queen of night — the moon (see note on p. 68). Thy huntress 1 name —
Diana. Orlando calls Rosalind by the name of this virtuous goddess.
b Inexpressibly lovely.
CORIN AND TOUCHSTONE.
Il6 SHAKESPEARE FOR THE YOUNG FOLK.
Conn. No more, but that I know the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is;
and that he that wants money, means, and content, is without three good friends ; that
the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn ; that good pasture makes fat sheep,
and that a great cause of the night is lack of the sun ; that he that hath learned no wit
by nature nor art, may complain [that he lacks] good breeding, or comes of a very dull
kindred.
Toiichstone. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in Court, shepherd ?
Conn. No, truly.
"Then," said Touchstone, "thy case is hopeless; for if thou wast never at
Court, thou never saw'st good manners ; if thy manners are not good, they are
wicked, and wickedness is sin. Thou art in a dangerous condition, shepherd."
" Not a whit, Touchstone," said Corin. " Those manners that are good at
Court are ridiculous in the country. You say courtiers kiss their hands when they
salute one another, which would not be cleanly among shepherds, for our hands
are not clean ; besides, our hands are hard as well as greasy."
"Shallow reasons, O most shallow man," replied Touchstone. "Thou art
green ; there 's no hope for thee."
" Your wit is too courtly for me, Master Touchstone," answered Corin. " I '11
stop. I am a true laborer : I earn what I eat, get that I wear ; owe no man hate,
envy no man's happiness ; am glad of other men's good, content with my own
harm ; and my greatest pride is to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck. But
here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother."
Rosalind came gayly along, reading aloud from a paper she carried in her
hand : —
From the east to western Ind,
No jewel is like Rosalind.
Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
Through all the world bears Rosalind.
All the pictures, fairest lined, 1
Are but black to Rosalind.
Let no face be kept in ?nind,
But the fair of Rosalind.
This amused Touchstone, and he said mockingly, " I '11 rhyme you so eight
years together, dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted : it is the right
butter- women's [trot] to market."
Rosalind. Out, fool !
Touchstone. For a taste : —
" If a hart do lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalind.
If the cat will after kind,
So, be sure, will Rosalind.
1 Drawn.
AS YOU LIKE IT.
117
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,
[Rumty tumty] Rosalind."
This is the very false gallop of - - - ^.. â– â– -.
verses : why do you infect a yourself .
with them ? ^
Rosalind. Peace, you dull fool ! I
found them on a tree.
Touchstone. Truly, the tree yields
bad fruit.
While Touchstone and Rosalind
were talking, Celia appeared, with a
paper in her hand also, which she
read aloud as she walked. This
proved to be another poem in
praise of Rosalind, evidently by the
same unknown hand, and, like the
first, torn from the trunk of a tree, to which it had been fastened. Through many
lines it dwelt upon the beauty and the virtues of this wonderful lady, comparing
her with all the famous women that had ever appeared in history. So full of
earnest words was it that Rosalind, coming forward to her cousin, laughed, and
likened it to preaching.
" O most gentle pulpiter ! " she exclaimed, " with what tedious homily of love
have you wearied your parishioners, without ever saying, Have patience, good
people /"
As the two cousins merrily looked over the paper together, Touchstone and
Corin drew near with a natural curiosity. But Celia had picked up some knowl-
edge about the authorship of these verses, which she wished to impart to Rosalind
privately, so she turned good-naturedly to the men, and said, —
" How now? back, friends. — Shepherd, go off a little : — go with him, sirrah."
"Come, shepherd," said Touchstone, "let us make an honorable retreat;
though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage."
After they were gone, Celia turned to her cousin, and asked, —
Didst thou hear these verses ?
Rosalind. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too ; for some of them had in them
more feet than the verses would bear.
Celia. That 's no matter: the feet might bear the verses.
a Touchstone speaks as if such poetry were like a contagious disease — to be avoided.
Il8 SHAKESPEARE FOR THE YOUNG FOLK.
Rosalind. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the
verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse.