cow's du<;s that her pretty chop'd hands had milk'd :
and I remember the wooing of a jjeasc'od instead of
her; from whom I took two cods, and, giving lier
tiiem again, said with weeping tears, Jlcar these.
Jur my sake. We, that ai'e true lovers, run into
strange capers ; but as all is mortal in nature, so is
all nature in love mortal in follv.**

Rus. Thou speak'st wiser, than thou art 'ware of.

Touch. Nay, 1 shall ne'er be 'ware of mine own
wit, till I break my shins against it.

Ron. Jove ! Jove ! this shepherd's passion
Is much upon my fashion.

Touch.. Awi\ mine; but it grows something stale
with mc.

Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond man,
If he for gold will give us any food ;
I faint almost to death.

Touch. Holla; you, clovrn !

Ros. Peace, fool ; he's not thy kinsman.

Cor. Wlio culls r

'Touch. Your betters, sir.

Cor. Else are they very wretched.

Ron. » Peace, I say : —

ani^Jd — ] Tims tlic old copy. Anig/it, is in the riight.



I ho word 1.^ usfd by Chaucer, iu I'he Legcnde (jfgood Women.
Our niodLTii t-ditors read, </ri/g/it.s, or u* night.

' bullet, '\ The instrument with wluch washers beat tboir

coarse clothes, .((jussov.

^ ■'■'0 is all iialttic in love mortal infollij.'] This expression I

do not well understand. In the middle counties, mortal, from
mart, a great quantity, is U'^ed as a particle of am])Iifi(ation; as
mortal tall, mortal 'little. Of this sense I believe .Shakspeare
tukesadvantage to produce one of his diirling etjuivocations. 'J'hua
tiie nieuning will be, so it all nature in /c;vf abounding infollif.

J<->lJN'>O.V.



134 AS YOU LIKE rr.

Good even to voii, friend.

Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.

Ros. I pr ytbee, 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.

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 sheer the fleeces that I graze ;
My master is of churlish disposition.
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 cur sheepcote now.
By reason of his absence, there is nothing
That yon 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.

Ros. 1 pra}' 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 coukl waste my time in it.

Cor. Assuredly^ the thing is to be sold :
fRo with me; if you like, upon report,
The soil, the profit, and this kind of life.



9 And little recks — ] i. e. heeds, cares for.

' And in my vuice-^'l u« fur as I have a voice or vote.



AS YOU LIKE IT. J 35

1 will your very faithful feeder he,

And buy it with your gold right suddenly. \_Exeinit.



SCENE V.

The same.
Enter Amiens, jAauES, and Others.

SONG.

Ami. lender the greenzvood free,
Ulio loi'cs to lie ziith me,
And tune his merri/ note
Unto the sweet bird's throat.
Come hither, come hither, come hither ;
Here shall he see
No enemij.
But winter and rough weather.

Ja(j, More, more, I pr'ythee, more.

A///i. It will make you melancholy, monsieur
Jaques.

Ja{j. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. I
can suck melancholy out of a S(mg, as a wcazel
sucks eggs : Mure, I ])r'ythee, more.

Ami. My voice is ragged ;* I know, I cannot
please you.

Jufj. I do not desire you to j)lease me, I do desire
\on to sing: Come, more; another stanza; Call
you them stanzas }

ylmi. What you will, monsieur Jaques.

Jdfj. Nay, i care not for their names ; they owe
me nothing : Will you sing ?

ra;i<rc(l ;] Oar modern editors (Mr. Malone excepted)



read ru<rac(l ; but rn-'<red liad aiicicntlv tlu' same meumii'r.
VOL. III. N



136 AS YOU LIKE IT.

A7?ii. More at your request, than to please myself.

Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll
thank you : but that tliey 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 youF
tongues.

Ami. Well, 111 end the song. — Sirs, cover the
while ; the duke will drink under this tree : — he
hatli been all this day to look you.

Jaq. 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.

SONG.

IVho doth ambition shun, [All together here.
And loves to live i the sun,
Seeking tlie fool he eats,
And pleas d with what he gets.
Come lather^ come hither, come hither ;
Here shall he see
JSfo enemy.
But winter and rough weather,

Jaq. ril give you a verse to this note, that I made
yesterday in despite of my invention.
Ami. And ril sing it.
Jaq. Thus it goes :

//' it do come to pass.
That any man turn ass.
Leaving his wealth and ease,
A stubborn will to please,

* disputable r—^^ For disputatious.



AS YOU LIKE IT. 137

Ducdamc, ducdame, ducdame ;*

Here .shall lie see,

Gross fools as he,
A}i if he icill come to Ami.

Ami. AMiat's that ducdame?

Jafj. 'Tis a (ircek invocation, to call fools into a
circle. I'll ^o sleep if I can ; if I cannot, I'll rail
against all ihe first-born of Egypt.

Ami. And Til go seek the duke ; liis banquet is
prepar'd. [^Exeunt severally.

SCENE VI.

The same.

Enter Orlando and kv>xu.

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 r Live a little ; comfort a little ; cheer thyself a
little : If this uncoutli forest yield any thing savao-e,
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 l)rini^ thee not somethinir to cat, I'll <rive
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 quicklv. —
Yet thou liest in the bleak air : Come, I will bear
thee to some shelter ; and thou shalt not die for lack

* ducdtime ;] For dncdtme. Sir Tliomas llaumcr, very

acuf cly and judiciously, reads due ad me, that is, brhig him to mt\
\)x. I'anntT tliiuka it \% evidt-ntly a w«rd coined for the nonce.

N '2



1 0,(3



AS YOU LIKE IT.



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,,
Lordsy and others.

Duke S. I think he be transform'd into a beast ;
For I can no where find him like a man.

1 Lot^d. 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 m ith him.

Enter Jasues.

1 Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach.

Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur ! what a life
is this.
That your poor frieiids must woo your company ?
Wliat ! you look merrily.

Jaq. A fool, a fool 1 1 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 :

^ — .— comptwt of jerx,'] i. e. made up of discords.
^ Call me nut fool, till heaven hath 'sent vie fori tine .•] Fnrtuna
favet Jatuisy is, as Mr. Upton observes, tlie saying here alluded
to ; or, as in Publius Syrus :

" lortiimi,nimium quevijhvet, stidtumjlicit.'*



AS YOU LIKE IT. 139

And lookinc^ on it with lack-lustre eye,

8ays, very wisely, It is ten clock :

Thus mail zee see, quoth he, hozv the zvorld wags :

'Tis but an hour ago, since it rras 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 therebii 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 a
courtier ;
.A.nd says, if ladies he but young, and fair.
They have the gift to know it : and in his brain, —
Which is as dry as the remainder bisket
Alter a voyage, — he hath strange places cramm'd
AVith observation, the which he vents
In mangled fcjrms : — O, that I were a fool !
I am ambitious for a motley coat.

Duke S. Thou shalt have one.

Ja<i. It is my only suit ;'

Provided, that you weed your better judgments
Of all ojjinion that grows rank in them,
'J'hat I am wise. 1 must have liberty
Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
'I'o blow on whom I please ; for so fools have :
And they tiiat are most galled with my folly,
They most must laugh : And why, sir, jmist tlicy vSO ?
The why is plain as way to parish church:
He, tliat a fool doth very wisely hit,

onlij suit ;] Huit means pctitioriy not dress.



140 AS YOU LIKE IT.

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 squandring 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. Fye 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.
As sensual as the brutish sting itself ;
And all the embossed sores, and headed evils.
That thou with licence of free foot hast caught,
Wouldst 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.
Till that the very very means do ebb ?
What woman in the city do I name.
When that I say. The city-woman bears
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 on my cost,

8 if noty &c.] Unless men have the prudence not to

appear touched with the sarcasms of a jester, they subject them-
selves to his power ; and the wise man will have his folly anato-
vnised, that is, dissected and laid open, by the squandring glances
or random shots of a fool. Johnson.

9 for a counter,] About the time when this play was

written, the French counters (i. e. pieces of false money used as
a means of reckoning) were brought into use in England.

' ... his bravery — ] i. e. his fine clothes.



AS YOU LIKE IT. 141

(Thinking that I mean him,) but therein suits
His tbily to the mettle of my speech ?
There then ; How, what tlien ? Let me see wherein
My tonojue hatli wrong d him : if it do him riglit.
Then he hatli wrong'd himself; if he be free.
Why tlien, mv taxing hke a wild goose flics,
Uncknm'd of any man. — But who comes here?

Enter Orlando, witit his swoj^d dranm.

Or/. Forbear, and cat no more.

Ja(^. Why, I have eat none yej^.

Or/. Nor slialt not, till necessity be seiVd.

J(!(j. Of what kind should this cock come of?

JJukc S. Art thon thus bolden'd, man, by thy
distress ;
Or else a rude despiser of good manners.
That in civility thou seem'st so empty?

Or/. 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 brcd,"
And know some nurture:^ But forbear, I say;
He dies, that touches any of this fruit,
'J'ill I and my affairs arc answered.

./c/y. An you will not be answered with reason,
I must die.

Du/iC S. What would you have ? Your gentleness
shall force.
More than your force move us to gentleness.

Or/. I almost die for food, and let me have it.

Du/iC S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our
table.

Or/. SjK-ak voii so gently? Pardon me, I pray you:
I tii'Might, that all things had been savage here;

* inland Ifred,'] In/and here, and elsewhere in this play,

is the opposite to nutlnud, or upland. Orlando means to say,
that he hud not been /jird aiiiorifr cloicus.

* And know some nurture :] Nurture is cducntion, breeding.



142 AS YOU LIKE IT,

And therefore put I on the countenance

Of stern commandment : But whate'er you arCj

That in this desert indccessible.

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 :

Tn the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword.

Diihe S. True is it that we have seen better days ;
And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church ;
And sat at good rtien'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 hrst 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
comfort ! \jE,a:it.

Duke S. Thou seestj we are not all alone un-
happy :
This wide and universal theatre
Pi-esents more woeful pageants than the scene
Wherein we play in.

* And take upon command - ^] At your otvn command.



AS VOlI LIKE IT. 143

Saq. AH the world's a stage,

And all tlio men and women merely players :
Thev have their exits, and their entrances ;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being; seven ages.' At first, the infant^
IVIewling and puking in the nurse's arms;
And then, the whining school-hoy, with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Inwillingly to seh(X)l : And then, the lover;
SiuhinGf like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eye-brow : Then, a soldier;
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,'^
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick" in quarrel,
iSeeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth : And then, the justice i
In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd,
\\ ith eyes severe, and beard of formal cut.
Full of wise saws and modern instances,*^
And so he ])lavs his part: The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slij)per'd pantaloon;
AVith sjK'ctacles on nose, and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide
For iiis shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice.
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes



* His acts being seven ages.] I have seen, more tlian once, an
old print, entitled T/ic Stage of Mail's Life, divided into seven
a^es. As enibleniaticiil representations of this sort were formerly
?tuek up, both for ornament and instruction, in the generality of
houses, it is more probable that Shakspeare took his hint from
thence, than from llippocrates or Proclus, who are quoted bj
Mr. M;done. IIkm.ky.

'' — — and bearded like the pard,'] Beards of difierent cut were
rtj>proprIated in our author's tune to diHircut characters and pro-
ft-^ioiis. The holdier had one fushiou, the judge another, Lh«
bibhop ditierent from both, &iC

1 sudden and ijuick — ] Lest it should be supposed tliat

these epithets are synonymous, it is necessary to be observed that
one of the ancient senses of sudden, la viulerd.

* modern iudances,^ Mudein meaub trUe^commou,

10



144 AS YOU LIKE IT.

And whistles in his sound : Last scene of all.
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.

Re-enter Orlando, with Adam.

Duke S. Welcome : Set down your venerable
burden.
And let him feed.

Or I. I thank you most for him.

Adam. So had you need ;
I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.

Duke S. Welcome, fall to ; I will not trouble you
As yet, to question you about your fortunes : —
Give us some musick ; and, good cousin, sing.

Amiens sings,

' SONG.
I.

Blow^ blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind ^
As mans ingratitude ;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,^
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho I ?into the green holly :
Most friendship is feigning, 7?iost loving tnere folly :
Then, heigh, ho, the holly I
This life is most jolly.

• Thou art not so unkind, &c.] That is, thy action is not so
contrary to thy kind, or to human nature, as the ingratitude of
man.

* Tht/ tooth is not so keetty

Because thou art not seen,'] It is the opinion of the best com-
Kncntators, that this can only be tortured into a meanmg. Dr,

11



AS YOU LIKE IT. 145

II.

Freeze^ freeze, fhon bitter ski/,
That (lust Jiot bite so nigU

As benefits forgot :
Though thou the ivaters xvarpy
Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remember d not.*
Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! &c.

Duke S. If that you were the good sir Rowland's
son, —
As you have wliisper'd faithfully, you were ;
And as mine eye doth his ethgies witness
Most truly linni'd, and living in your face, —
Be truly welcome hither ; 1 am the duke,
That lov'd your father : The residue of your fortune.
Go to my cave and tell me. — (^ood old man,
Thou art right welcome as thy master is :
Support him by the arm. — (iive me your hand,
And let me all your fortunes understand. \^E.reunL

Johnson paraphrases thus : — Thou iviuter iv/nd, thy rudeness gives
the less pain, as thou art not seen, as thou art an enemy that dost
nut brave us xvith thy presence^ and whose unkindness is therefore
not arrjyrnvated by insult.

* As friend remember'd not.l^ Remembered for rememberipg.



146 AS YOU LIKE IT,

ACT III.

SCENE I. A Room in the Palace,

Enter Duke Frederick, Oliver, Lords, and

Attendants.

Duke F. Not see him since ? Sir, sir, that can-
not be :
But were I not the better part made mercy,
t should not seek an absent aroument*
Of my revenge, thou present : Bui, look to it ;
Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is :
Seek him with candle ; bring him dead or living,
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more
To seek a living in our territory.
Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine.
Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands ;
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth.
Of what we think against thee.

0/i. 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
of doors;
And let my officers of such a nature
^lake an extent* upon his house and lands :
Do this expediently,^ and turn him going.

\_E.veunt*

' on abseyit argument — ] An argument is used for the

contents of a book, tlience Sliakspeare considered it as meaning
the subject, and then used it for subject in yet another sense.

■* Make an extent — ] " To make an extent of lands," is a legal
phrase, from the words of a writ, (extendi facias,) whereby the
sheriff is directed to cause certain lands to be appraised to their
full extended value, before he delivers them to the person entitled
under a recognizance, &c. in order that it may be certainly known
how soon the debt will be paid. Ma lone.

^ expedientlt/,'] That is, expeditions! i/.



AS YOU LIKE IT, 147

SCENE II.

The Forest,

Enter Orlando, nith a paper. ^

Orl. riang there, my verse, in witness of my lore*..

And, tlioii, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey
\A'iiii tliy cliaste eye, from tJiy pale sphere above,

Thy imntress' name, that my full life doth sway.
O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books,

And in their barks my thoughts I'll cliai-actcr;
Tiiat everv eve, which in this forest looks,

♦Shall see thy virtue witnessed every whiire.
Run, run, Orlando ; carve, on every tree,
7'he fair, the chaste, and unexpressive^ she. \^K.i'it,

Enter Corin atul Touchstone.

Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, mas-
ter Touchstone r

Touch. Truly, shepherd, in res})ect of itself, it is
a good lite ; 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
seiy vile life. Now in respect it is in the tield«, 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 njy humour well ; but as there is no more
plenty in it, itgoesnmch against my stomach. Hast
anv philosophy in thee, shepherd?

Cor. No more, but that 1 know, the niore one
sickens, the worse at ease he is ; and that he that
wants money, mean«, and content, is without three
good friends : — 'I'hat the |)ropertv of rain is to wet,
;ind fire to buin : That good pasture makes fat

* — — unexjirtSiiic — ] For int.rjjresiible.



148 AS YOU LIKE IT.

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 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 ill-roasted
^g^,^^ all on one side.

Cor. For not being at court ? Your reason.

Touch. Why, if thou never w^ast 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.

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
mockable at the court. You told me, you salute
not at the court, but you kiss your hands ; that
courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shep-
herds.

Touch. Instance, briefly ; come, instance.

Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes ; and
their fells, you know, are greasy.

Touch. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat?
and is not tlic grease of a mutton as wholesome as
the sweat of a man ? Shallow, shallow : A better
instance, I say ; come.

' '»«y complain of good breeding,'] May cbmphin of a

^ood education^ for being so inefficient, of so little use to him.

Malonfs

* liJce an ill-roasted egg,] Of this jest I do not fully com-
prehend the meaning. Johnson.

Shakspeare's similies hardly ever run on four feet. Ma lone.



AS YOU LIKE IT. 149

Cor. Besides, our hands are hard.

Touch. Your hps will foci them the sooner.
Shallow, ao;ain : A more sounder instance, come.

Cor. And they are often tarr'd over with the sur-
crery 0/ our sheep ; And would you have us kiss tar ?
The courtier's hands are jx^rfumed with civet.

Touch. Most shallow man' Thou worms-meat,
in respect of a good piece of Hesh : Indeed ! — Learn
ot the wise, and perpend : Civet is of a baser birth
than tar ; the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend
the instance, shepherd.

Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me ; V\\
rest.

Touch. Wilt thou rest danm'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,
f;vt that I wear ; owe no man hate, envy no man's
hajipiness ; glad of other men's good, content wrth
my harm : and the greatest of my pride is, to see
my ewe^ graze, and my lambs suck.

Touch. That is another simple sin in you; to
brin<> the ewes and the rams together, and to offer
to get your living by the co])ulation of cattle : to be