I was too young that time to value her ;
But now I know her. If she be a traitor,
Why, so am I ; we still have slept together.
Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together.
And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans,^
Still we went coupled and inseparable.
Duke F. She is too subtle for thee ; and her smoothness,
Her very silence, and her patience
Speak to the people, and they pity her.
1 Clearance from guilt. 2 Tenderness of heart.
3 " Juno's swans," i.e., the swans that drew the goddess's chariot. But
the mythologists tell us the swan was sacred to Venus, and that Juno's car
was drawn by peacocks.
32 SHAKESPEARE. [ACT I.
Thou art a fool ; she robs thee of thy name,
And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous
When she is gone. Then open not thy lips.
Firm and irrevocable is my doom
Which I have pass'd upon her : she is banish'd.
Celia. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege ;
I cannot live out of her company.
Duke F. You are a fool! — You, niece, provide yourself.
If you outstay the time, upon mine honor.
And in the greatness of my word, you die.
\Exeuiit Duke Frederick and Lords.
Celia. 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.
Rosalind. I have more cause.
Celia. Thou hast not, cousin ;
Prithee, be cheerful. Know'st thou not the Duke
Hath banish'd me, his daughter ?
Rosalind. That he hath not.
Celia. No ? hath not ? Rosalind lacks then the love
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am' one.
Shall we be sunder'd ? shall we part, sweet girl ?
No : let my father seek another heir.
Therefore devise with me how we may fly,
Whither to go, and what to bear with us ;
And do not seek to take the charge upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out ;
For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale.
Say what thou canst, FU go along with thee.
Rosalind. Why, whither shall we go ?
Celia. To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden.
Rosalind. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far !
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
SCENE in.] .IS YOU LIKE IT. 33
Cclia. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
And with a kind of umber smirch my face ; • ■
The like do you ; so shall we pass along
And never stir assailants.
Rosalind. Were it not better,
Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man ?
A gallant curtle ax ^ upon my thigh,
A boar spear in my hand ; and — in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will- —
We'll have a swashing - and a martial outside,
As many other mannish cowards have
That do outface it with their semblances.
Celia. What shall I call thee when thou art a man ?
RosaliiuL I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page ;
And therefore look you call me Ganymede.''
But what will you be call'd ?
Celia. Something that hath a reference to my state :
No longer Celia, but Aliena.
Rosalind. But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal
The clownish fool out of your father's court ?
Would he not be a comfort to our travel ?
Celia. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me ;
Leave me alone to woo ^ him. Let's away,
And get our jewels and our wealth together,
Devise the fittest time and safest way
To hide us from pursuit that will be made
After my flight. Now go we in content
To liberty and not to banishment. \Exetmf.
1 " Curtle ax," i.e., a short sword. Tlie name is a corruption of " cut-
lass." 2 Swaggering.
3 A beautiful youth of Phrygia, son of Tros, who, wliile feeding his
father's flocks on Mount Ida, was taken up to Olympus by Jupiter, and be-
came the cupbearer of the gods. * Persuade ; gain over.
34 SHAKESPEARE. [act u.
Scene I. The Forest of Arden.
Enter DUKE Senior, Amiens, a^id hvo 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, —
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 counselors
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,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.
I would not change it.
Ajniens. Happy is your grace.
That can translate the stubbornness of fortune
Into so quiet and so sweet a style.
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,
1 That the toad was venomous, and that it had a precious jewel in its head,
were old superstitions in Shakespeare's day. The toadstone was supposed
to be an antidote for poison.
2 Distresses. 3 Citizens.
SCENE I.] AS YOU LIKE 77'. 3S
Should in their own confines', with forked heads ^
Have their round haunches gor'd.
First Lord. . Indeed, my lord,
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
Under an oak whose an'tique 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,
The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting, and the big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase ; and thus the hairy fool,
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.
First, for his weeping into the needless stream : ^
" Poor deer," quoth he, " thou mak'st a testament
As worldhngs do, giving thy sum of more
To that which had too much." Then, being there alone,
Left and abandon'd of his velvet ^ friends,
" 'Tis right," quoth he ; " thus misery doth part
The flux^ of company." Anon a careless herd,
1 Arrowheads. 2 Way.
3 Separated from the herd.
* " Needless stream," i.e., a stream that already had water enough.
^ Sleek ; prosperous, 6 Coming together.
3^5 SHAh'ESPEARE. [act iu
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him
And never stays to greet him. " Ay," quoth Jaques,
" Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens ;
'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
Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse,
To fright the animals and to kill them up ^
In their assign'd and native dwelhng place.
Duke S. And did you leave him in this contemplation ?
Second Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting
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,
Scene II. A Room in the Palace.
Enter Duke Frederick, with Lords.
Dtike 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.
Saw her abed, and in the morning early
They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress.
Second Lord. My lord, the roynish ^ clown, at whom so oft
Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.
1 " Kill them up ; " we should say now, " kill them off."
2 Meet with. 3 Sound sense. * Immediately.
5 " Are of consent," etc., i.e., knew of this escape and connived at it.
SfENE HI.] AS you LIKE IT. 31
Hisperia, the princess' gentlewoman,
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,
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 ^
To bring again these foolish runaways, \Exeu7it.
Scene III. Before Oliver's House.
Enter Orlando and Adam, meeting.
Orlando. 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 ?
And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant ?
Why would you be so fond 2 to overcome
The bony priser^ of the humorous* Duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not, master, to some kind of men
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 !
Orlatido. Why, what's the matter?
Adam. O unhappy youth !
1 " Inquisition quail," i. e., inquiry slacken. 2 Foolish.
3 " Bony priser," i. e., stalwart prize fighter. 4 See Note 3, p. 28.
3^ SHAKESPEARE. [act li.
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
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.
I overheard him and his practices.-
This is no place ; ^ this house is but a butchery.*
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it!
Orlaiido. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go ?
Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here.
Orlando. 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.
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 sav'd under your father,
Which I did store to be my foster nurse
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 ;
1 " Use to lie," i.e., it is your custom to sleep.
2 Evil designs. 3 Fit dwelling.
* Here used in the sense of " slaughterhouse."
5 " Malice of," etc., i.e., the alienated natural affection of a murderous
6 See Ps. cxlvii. g, and Luke xii. 6.
SCENE III.] AS YOU^IKE IT. 39
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 rebellioi:s liquors in my blood,
Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo
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.
Orlando. O good old man, how well in thee appears
The constant 2 service of the an'tique 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.
And having that, do choke their service up
Even with the having;'^ it is not so with thee.
But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossom yield
In heu 5 of all thy pains and husbandry.
But come thy ways ; we'll go along together,
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,
We'll hght upon some settled low content.
Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee,
To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. —
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
Than to die well and not my master's debtor. \Exeunt.
1 Natural ; hence, healthy. 2 Faitlifiil. 3 Reward.
* Because of their promotion they become too )iroud to serve.
5 " In lieu," i.e., in return for.
* " Too late a week," i.e., too late in the week ; much too late.
40 SHAKE^EARE. \_kci: ii.
Scene IV. The Forest of Arden.
Enter RosALiND/?r Ganymede, CELiA/?r Aliena, and Touchstone.
Rosalind. O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits !
Touchstone. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not
Rosalind. I could iind in my heart to disgrace my man's ap-
parel 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 !
Celia. I pray you, bear with me ; I cannot go no 2 further.
Touchstone. For my part, I had rather bear with you than
bear you ; yet I should bear no cross 3 if I did bear you, for I
think you have no money in your purse.
Rosalind. Well, this is the Forest of Arden.
Touchstone. Ay, now am I in Arden — the more fool I ! When
I was at home I was in a better place ; but travelers must be
Rosalind. Ay, be so, good Touchstone.
Enter Corin and Sirvius.
Look you, who comes here? a young man and an old in solemn *
Corin. That is the way to make her scorn you still.
Silvius. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her !
1 " Doublet and hose," i.e., coat and breeches. " The doublet was close
and fitted tightly to the body, the skirts reaching a little below the girdle.
The word ' hose,' now applied solely to the stocking, was used originally
to imply the breeches " or tight trousers.
2 Double negatives are frequent in Shakespeare.
3 A cross is a heavy burden, figuratively. The penny of Queen Elizabeth
was stamped with a cross, and was familiarly so called. Touchstone puns
on the two meanings.
* Serious ; earnest.
SCENE IV.] AS YOU ^IKE IT. 41
Corin. I partly guess ; for I have lov'd ere now.
Silvius. 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 hke to mine, —
As sure I think did never man love so, —
How many actions most ridiculous
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy ? ^
Corin. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
Silvius. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily !
If thou remember'st not the shghtest folly
That ever love did make thee run into.
Thou hast not lov'd ;
Or if thou hast not sat as I do now.
Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,
Thou hast not lov'd ;
Or if thou hast not broke from company
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not lov'd.
Phebe, Phebe, Phebe ! [Exit.
Rosalind. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy wound,
1 have by hard adventure found mine own.
Touchstone. 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 chopt 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
1 Fancy; i.e., love. 2 A little bat used by laundresses.
3 " Our [English] ancestors were frequently accustomed in tlieir love
affairs to employ the divination of a jieascod [pea pod], by selecting one
growing on the stem, snatching it away quickly, and if tlie omen of the peas
remaining in the pod were preserved, then presenting it to the lady of their
choice." (Brand's Popular Antiqiiiiles, quoted by W. Aldis Wright.)
42 SHAKESPEARE. [act ii.
into strange capers ; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature
in love mortal in folly.'
Rosalind. I'hou speakest wiser than thou art 'ware of.
Touchstone. Nay, I shall ne'er be 'ware of mine own wit till I
break my shins against it.
Rosalind. Jove, Jove ! this shepherd's passion
Is much upon my fashion.
Touchstone. And mine ; but it grows something stale with me.
Celia. I pray you, one of you question yond man
If he for gold will give us any food.
I faint almost to death.
Touchstone. Holla, you clown !
Rosalind. Peace, fool ; he's not thy kinsman.
Corin. Who calls ?
Touchstone. Your betters, sir.
Corin. Else are they very wretched.
Rosalind. Peace, I say. — Good even to you, friend.
Corin. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.
Rosalind: 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 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 recks 2 to find the way to heaven
By doing deeds of hospitahty.
Besides, his cote,""^ his flocks, and bounds of feed
Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now,
1 " Mortal in folly," i.e., extremely foolish.
2 Cares. 3 Hut.
SCENE v.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 43
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.
Rosalmd. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture ?
Covin. That young swain that you saw here but erewhile,i
That little cares for buying anything.
Rosalijid. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the fiock.
And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.
Celia. And we will mend thy wages. I like this place,
And willingly could waste ^ 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 right suddenly. \Exetmt.
Scene V. The Forest,
Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others.
Amiens. Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me.
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird^s throat,
Come hither, coine hither, come hither j
Here shall he see
But wifiter and rough weather.
Jaques. More, more, I prithee, more!
Amie?is. It will make you melancholy. Monsieur Jaques.
Jaques. I thank it. More, I prithee, more ! I can suck mel-
ancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee,
1 Just now. 2 Spend. 3 Servant,
44 SHAKESPEARE. [Acr ii.
Amiens. My voice is ragged ; I know I cannot please you.
Jaqiics. I do not desire you to please me ; I do desire you to
sing. Come, more ; another stanzo ; call you 'em stanzos ?
Amiens. What you will, Monsieur Jaques.
Jaqiies. Nay, I care not for their names ; they owe me noth-
ing. Will you sing ?
Amiens. More at your request than to please myself.
Jaques. Well, then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you ;
but that they call comphment 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.
Amiens. 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 2 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 !
Who doth ainbition shun, \All together here.
And loves to live V th'' sun,
Seeking the food he eats
And pleas' d with ivhat he gets.
Come hither, come hither, come hitherj
Here shall he see
But winter and rough weather.
Jaques. I'll give you a verse to this note that I made yester-
day in despite of my invention.*
1 Prepare the table for the banquet. 2 Look for.
3 Fond of argument.
* "In despite of my invention," i.e., though my imagination gave its
SCENE VI.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 45
Amiens. And I'll sing it.
Jaques. Thus it goes :
If it do come to pass
That any man turn ass,
Leaving his tvealth and easey
A stubborn will to please,
Ducdatne, ditcdatne, ducdatne j
Here shall he see
Gross fools as he,
An if he will come to me.
Amiens. What's that " ducdame ? "
Jaques. '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. ^
Amiens. And I'll go seek the Duke ; his banquet is prepared.
Scene VL The Forest.
Enter Orlando and Adam.
Ada7n. Dear master, I can go no further. O, I die for food !
Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind
Orlando. Why, how now, Adam ! no greater heart in thee ?
Live a little ; comfort a little ; cheer thyself a httle. If this un-
couth forest yield anything 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 labor. Well said !
thou look'st cheerly,^ and I'll be with thee quickly. Yet thou Hest
1 Dr. Johnson notes that the expression "firstborn of Egypt" was a
proverbial one for highborn persons.
2 Imagination. 3 Cheerfully.
4.6 SHAKESPEARE. [act n.
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. Cheerly, good Adam ! [Exeunt.
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 nowhere 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,i 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 labor by his own approach.
Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur ! what a life is this,
That your poor friends must woo your company ?
What, you look merrily !
Jaques. A fool, a fool ! I met a fool i' the forest,
A motley ^ fool ! — A miserable world ! —
As I do hve 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,'*
^ "Compact of jars," i.e., made up of discords.
2 The doctrine of Pythagoras that the heavenly bodies in their motion
produce harmonious sounds, is frequently referred to by Shakespeare.
3 Party-colored. The dress of the professional fool, who had a place in
every large household, was patched with various colors.
SCENE VII.] AS YOU LIKE IT. 4'/
And, looking on it with lackluster 6)^6,
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 ;
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 !
worthy fool ! Motley's the only wear.^
Duke S. What fool is this ?
Jaques. A 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
With observation, the which he vents
In mangled forms. O that I were a fool !
1 am ambitious for a motley coat.