As You Like It (Folger Shakespeare Library)

by William Shakespeare

  If they will patiently receive my medicine.

  DUKE SENIOR Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do.

  JAQUES What, for a counter64, would I do but good?

  DUKE SENIOR Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin.

  For thou thyself hast been a libertine66,

  As sensual as the brutish sting67 itself;

  And all th'embossed sores and headed evils68

  That thou with licence of free foot hast caught

  Wouldst thou disgorge70 into the general world.

  JAQUES Why, who cries out on pride71,

  That can therein tax any private party72?

  Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,

  Till that the weary very means do ebb74?

  What woman in the city do I name,

  When that I say the city woman bears

  The cost of princes77 on unworthy shoulders?

  Who can come in78 and say that I mean her,

  When such a one as she, such is her neighbour?

  Or what is he of basest function80

  That says his bravery is not on my cost81,

  Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits82

  His folly to the mettle83 of my speech?

  There then, how then, what then? Let me see wherein

  My tongue hath wronged him: if it do him right85,

  Then he hath wronged himself. If he be free86,

  Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies,

  Unclaimed of any man. But who comes here?

  Enter Orlando

  Draws his sword

  ORLANDO Forbear89, 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?92

  DUKE SENIOR Art thou thus boldened, man, by thy distress,

  Or else a rude94 despiser of good manners,

  That in civility thou seem'st so empty?

  ORLANDO You touched my vein at first96. The thorny point

  Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show

  Of smooth civility: yet am I inland bred98

  And know some nurture99. But forbear, I say:

  He dies that touches any of this fruit

  Till I and my affairs are answered101.

  JAQUES An you will not be answered with reason102, I must die.

  DUKE SENIOR What would you have? Your gentleness103 shall force

  More than your force move us to gentleness.

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

  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 countenance109

  Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are

  That in this desert inaccessible,

  Under the shade of melancholy112 boughs,

  Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time,

  If ever you have looked on better days,

  If ever been where bells have knolled115 to church,

  If ever sat at any good man's feast,

  If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear

  And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied,

  Let gentleness my strong enforcement119 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 command126 what help we have

  That to your wanting127 may be ministered.

  ORLANDO 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

  Limped in pure love: till he be first sufficed,

  Oppressed with two weak133 evils, age and hunger,

  I will not touch a bit.

  DUKE SENIOR Go find him out.

  And we will nothing waste136 till you return.

  ORLANDO I thank ye, and be blest for your good comfort!

  [Exit]

  DUKE SENIOR Thou see'st we are not all alone unhappy138:

  This wide and universal theatre

  Presents more woeful pageants than the scene

  Wherein we play in.

  JAQUES 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 acts146 being seven ages. At first the infant,

  Mewling147 and puking in the nurse's arms.

  Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel

  And shining morning face, creeping like snail

  Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,

  Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad

  Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,

  Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard153,

  Jealous in154 honour, 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 capon157 lined,

  With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,

  Full of wise saws and modern instances159.

  And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts

  Into the lean and slippered pantaloon161,

  With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,

  His youthful hose163, well saved, a world too wide

  For his shrunk shank164, and his big manly voice,

  Turning again toward childish treble, pipes

  And whistles in his166 sound. Last scene of all,

  That ends this strange eventful history167,

  Is second childishness and mere168 oblivion,

  Sans teeth, sans eyes169, sans taste, sans everything.

  Enter Orlando, with Adam

  DUKE SENIOR Welcome. Set down your venerable burden,

  And let him feed.

  Sets down Adam

  ORLANDO I thank you most for him.

  ADAM So had you need.

  I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.

  DUKE SENIOR Welcome, fall to175. I will not trouble you

  As yet, to question you about your fortunes.--

  Give us some music, and, good cousin, sing.

  Song

  Blow, blow, thou winter wind,

  Thou art not so unkind179

  As man's ingratitude.

  Thy tooth is not so keen181,

  Because thou art not seen,

  Although thy breath be rude183.

  Heigh-ho, sing heigh-ho, unto the green holly.

  Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:

  The hey-ho, the holly.

  This life is most jolly.

  Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky

  That dost not bite so nigh189

  As benefits forgot:

  Though thou the waters warp191,

  Thy sting is not so sharp

  As friend remembered not.

  Hey-ho, sing, etc.

  To Orlando

  DUKE SENIOR If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son,

  As you have whispered faithfully196 you were,

  And as mine eye doth his effigies197 witness

  Most truly limned198 and living in your face,

  Be truly welcome hither: I am the duke

  That loved your father. The residue of your fortune,

  Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man,

  Thou art right welcome as thy master is.

  Support him by the arm. Give me y
our hand,

  And let me all your fortunes204 understand.

  Exeunt

  Act 3 Scene 1

  running scene 8

  Enter Duke [Frederick], Lords and Oliver

  DUKE FREDERICK Not see him1 since? Sir, sir, that cannot be:

  But were I not the better part made2 mercy,

  I should not seek an absent argument3

  Of my revenge, thou present4. But look to it:

  Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is.

  Seek him with candle. Bring him dead or living

  Within this twelvemonth, or turn7 thou no more

  To seek a living in our territory.

  Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine

  Worth seizure10 do we seize into our hands,

  Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth11

  Of what we think against thee.

  OLIVER O, that your highness knew my heart in this!

  I never loved my brother in my life.

  DUKE FREDERICK More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors,

  And let my officers of such a nature16

  Make an extent upon17 his house and lands.

  Do this expediently and turn him going18.

  Exeunt

  Act 3 Scene 2

  running scene 9

  Enter Orlando

  With a paper

  ORLANDO Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love:

  And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night2, survey

  With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,

  Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sway4.

  O Rosalind! These trees shall be my books,

  And in their barks my thoughts I'll character6,

  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 unexpressive10 she.

  Exit

  Enter Corin and Clown [Touchstone]

  CORIN And how like you this shepherd's life, Master

  Touchstone?

  TOUCHSTONE 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 private16, 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 humour18

  well; but as there is no more plenty19 in it, it goes much against

  my stomach20. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd?

  CORIN No more but that I know the more one sickens the

  worse at ease he is: and that he that wants22 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 art26 may

  complain of27 good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred.

  TOUCHSTONE Such a one is a natural28 philosopher. Wast ever in

  court, shepherd?

  CORIN No, truly.

  TOUCHSTONE Then thou art damned.

  CORIN Nay, I hope32.

  TOUCHSTONE Truly thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg: all33

  on one side.

  CORIN For not being at court? Your reason.

  TOUCHSTONE Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never

  saw'st good manners37. 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 parlous39 state, shepherd.

  CORIN 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 kiss43 your hands;

  that courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds.

  TOUCHSTONE Instance45, briefly. Come, instance.

  CORIN Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their fells46,

  you know are greasy.

  TOUCHSTONE Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? And is

  not the grease49 of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a

  man? Shallow, shallow. A better instance, I say, come.

  CORIN Besides, our hands are hard.

  TOUCHSTONE Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again.

  A more sounder instance, come.

  CORIN And they are often tarred over with the surgery of54

  our sheep, and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's

  hands are perfumed with civet56.

  TOUCHSTONE Most shallow man! Thou worms-meat in respect57

  of a good piece of flesh indeed. Learn of the wise, and

  perpend59: civet is of a baser birth than tar, the very uncleanly

  flux of a cat. Mend60 the instance, shepherd.

  CORIN You have too courtly a wit for me. I'll rest61.

  TOUCHSTONE Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow

  man. God make incision in thee. Thou art raw63.

  CORIN Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn that I eat, get64 that I

  wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness, glad of

  other men's good, content with my harm66, and the greatest of

  my pride is to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck.

  TOUCHSTONE That is another simple68 sin in you: to bring the

  ewes and the rams together and to offer69 to get your living by

  the copulation of cattle, to be bawd to a bell-wether70, and to

  betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to a crooked-pated71, old,

  cuckoldly ram, out of72 all reasonable match. If thou be'st not

  damned for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds. I

  cannot see else how thou shouldst scape.

  CORIN Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new

  mistress' brother.

  With a paper

  Enter Rosalind

  Reads

  ROSALIND 'From the east to western Ind77,

  No jewel is like Rosalind.

  Her worth, being mounted on the wind,

  Through all the world bears Rosalind.

  All the pictures fairest lined81

  Are but black to82 Rosalind.

  Let no face be kept in mind

  But the fair84 of Rosalind.'

  TOUCHSTONE I'll rhyme you so eight years together85, dinners and

  suppers and sleeping-hours excepted. It is the right butter-86

  women's rank87 to market.

  ROSALIND Out, fool!

  TOUCHSTONE For a taste:

  If a hart do lack a hind90,

  Let him seek out Rosalind.

  If the cat will after kind92,

  So be sure will Rosalind.

  Wintered garments must be lined94,

  So must slender Rosalind.

  They that reap must sheaf and bind96,

  Then to cart97 with Rosalind.

  Sweetest nut98 hath sourest rind,

  Such a nut is Rosalind.

  He that sweetest rose100 will find

  Must find love's prick101 and Rosalind.

  This is the very false gallop102 of verses. Why do you infect

  yourself with them?

  ROSALIND Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree.

  TOUCHSTONE Truly the tree yields bad fruit105.

  ROSALIND I'll graff106 it with you, and then I shall graff it with a

  medlar107. Then it will be the earliest fruit i'th'country, for

  you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right108

  virtue of the medlar.

  TOUC
HSTONE You have said, but whether wisely or no, let the

  forest judge.

  Enter Celia, with a writing

  They stand aside

  ROSALIND Peace! Here comes my sister, reading. Stand aside.

  Reads

  CELIA 'Why should this a desert be?

  For114 it is unpeopled? No.

  Tongues I'll hang on every tree

  That shall civil sayings116 show.

  Some, how brief the life of man

  Runs his erring118 pilgrimage,

  That the stretching of a span119

  Buckles in120 his sum of age.

  Some, of violated vows

  'Twixt the souls 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 sprite127

  Heaven would in little128 show.

  Therefore heaven Nature charged129

  That one body should be filled

  With all graces wide-enlarged131.

  Nature presently132 distilled

  Helen's cheek, but not her heart133,

  Cleopatra's134 majesty,

  Atalanta's better part135,

  Sad Lucretia's modesty136.

  Thus Rosalind of many parts

  By heavenly synod138 was devised,

  Of many faces, eyes and hearts,

  To have the touches140 dearest prized.

  Heaven would141 that she these gifts should have,

  And I to142 live and die her slave.'

  Steps forward

  ROSALIND O most gentle Jupiter143! What tedious

  homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal,

  and never cried 'Have patience, good people!'

  CELIA How now? Back146, friends. Shepherd, go off a little.--

  To Touchstone

  Go with him, sirrah147.

  TOUCHSTONE Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable

  retreat, though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and149

  scrippage.

  Exeunt [Corin and Touchstone]

  CELIA Didst thou hear these verses?

  ROSALIND O, yes, I heard them all, and more too, for some of

  them had in them more feet153 than the verses would bear.

  CELIA That's no matter: the feet might bear the verses.

  ROSALIND Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear

  themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in

  the verse.

  CELIA But didst thou hear without wondering how thy

  name should be hanged and carved upon these trees?

  ROSALIND I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder160

  before you came, for look here what I found on a palm-tree. I

  was never so berhymed since Pythagoras' time that162 I was an

  Irish rat163, which I can hardly remember.

  CELIA Trow164 you who hath done this?

  ROSALIND Is it a man?

  CELIA And a chain166, that you once wore, about his neck.

  Change you colour?167

  ROSALIND I prithee who?

  CELIA O lord, lord! It is a hard matter for friends to meet169;

  but mountains may be removed with earthquakes and so

  encounter.169

  ROSALIND Nay, but who is it?