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 in we content139
To liberty and not to banishment.
Exeunt
Act 2 Scene 1
running scene 3
Enter Duke Senior, Amiens and two or three Lords, like foresters
DUKE SENIOR Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom2 made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp3? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious4 court?
Here feel we not the penalty of Adam5,
The seasons’ difference, as6 the icy fang
And churlish chiding7 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 counsellors
That feelingly11 persuade me what I am.’
Sweet are the uses12 of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous13,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head.
And this our life exempt from public haunt15
Finds tongues16 in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones and good in everything.
AMIENS I would not change18 it. Happy is your grace
That can translate19 the stubbornness of fortune
Into so quiet and so sweet a style20.
DUKE SENIOR Come, shall we go and kill us venison?
And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools22,
Being native burghers of this desert23 city,
Should in their own confines with forkèd heads24
Have their round haunches gored.
FIRST LORD Indeed, my lord,
The melancholy Jaques grieves at that,
And in that kind28 swears you do more usurp
Than doth your brother that hath banished you.
Today my Lord of Amiens and myself
Did steal behind him as he lay along31
Under an oak whose antique32 root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls33 along this wood,
To the which place a poor sequestered34 stag
That from the hunter’s aim had ta’en a hurt,
Did come to languish; and indeed, my lord,
The wretched animal heaved forth such groans
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting, and the big round tears
Coursed40 one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase: and thus the hairy fool
Much markèd of42 the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on th’extremest verge43 of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.
DUKE SENIOR But what said Jaques?
Did he not moralize46 this spectacle?
FIRST LORD O, yes, into a thousand similes.
First, for his weeping into the needless48 stream;
‘Poor deer,’ quoth he, ‘thou mak’st a testament49
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more50
To that which had too much.’ Then, being there alone,
Left and abandoned of his velvet friend52,
‘ ’Tis right,’ quoth he, ‘thus misery doth part53
The flux of company.’ Anon a careless54 herd,
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him
And never stays56 to greet him. ‘Ay,’ quoth Jaques,
‘Sweep on, you fat and greasy57 citizens,
’Tis just the fashion; wherefore58 do you look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?’
Thus most invectively60 he pierceth through
The body of country, city, court,
Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we
Are mere63 usurpers, tyrants, and what’s worse,
To fright the animals and to kill them up64
In their assigned and native dwelling-place.
DUKE SENIOR And did you leave him in this contemplation?
SECOND LORD We did, my lord, weeping and commenting67
Upon the sobbing deer.
DUKE SENIOR Show me the place.
I love to cope70 him in these sullen fits,
For then he’s full of matter71.
FIRST LORD I’ll bring you to him straight72.
Exeunt
Act 2 Scene 2
running scene 4
Enter Duke [Frederick], with Lords
DUKE FREDERICK Can it be possible that no man saw them?
It cannot be: some villains2 of my court
Are of consent and sufferance3 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 untreasured7 of their mistress.
SECOND LORD My lord, the roynish8 clown, at whom so oft
Your grace was wont9 to laugh, is also missing.
Hisperia, the princess’ gentlewoman,
Confesses that she secretly o’erheard
Your daughter and her cousin much commend
The parts13 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 FREDERICK Send to his brother, fetch that gallant17 hither.
If he be absent, bring his brother to me.
I’ll make him find him. Do this suddenly19,
And let not search and inquisition quail20
Exeunt
To bring again21 these foolish runaways.
Act 2 Scene 3
running scene 5
Enter Orlando and Adam, [meeting]
ORLANDO Who’s there?
ADAM What, my young master? O, my gentle master!
O my sweet master! O you memory3
Of old Sir Rowland! Why, what make you4 here?
Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you?
And wherefore are you gentle, strong and valiant?
Why would you be so fond7 to overcome
The bonny priser of the humorous8 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 more12 do yours: your virtues, gentle master,
Are sanctified13 and holy traitors to you.
O, what a world is this, when what is comely14
Envenoms15 him that bears it!
ORLANDO Why, what’s the matter?
ADAM O, unhappy youth,
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 praises23, and this night he means
To burn the lodging where you use24 to lie
And you within it. If he fail of25 that,
He will have other means to cut you off26;
I overheard him and his practices27.
This is no place, this house is but a butchery28;
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.
ORLANDO Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?
ADAM No matter whither, so31 you come not here.
ORLANDO What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food?
Or with a base and boist’rous sword enforce33
A thievish living on the common34 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 blood38 and bloody brother.
ADAM But do not so. I have five hundred crowns,
The thrifty hire40 I saved under your father,
Which I did store to be my foster-nurse41
When service should in my old limbs lie lame42
And unregarded43 age in corners thrown.
Take that, and he that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Gives gold
Be comfort to my age. Here is the gold,
All this I give you. Let me be your servant.
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty48;
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood,
Nor did not with unbashful forehead51 woo
The means of weakness and debility:
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly54. 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 constant58 service of the antique world,
When service sweat for duty, not for meed59!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweat but for promotion,
And having that, do choke their service up62
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 lieu of all thy pains and husbandry66.
But come thy ways67, we’ll go along together,
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,
We’ll light upon some settled low content69.
ADAM Master, go on, and I will follow thee
To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
From seventeen years till now almost fourscore72
Here livèd I, but now live here no more.
At seventeen years many their fortunes seek,
But at fourscore it is too late a week75.
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better
Than to die well and not my master’s debtor.
Exeunt
Act 2 Scene 4
running scene 6
Enter Rosalind for Ganymede, Celia for Aliena, and Clown alias Touchstone
ROSALIND O Jupiter1, how merry are my spirits!
TOUCHSTONE I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.
Aside?
ROSALIND I could find in my heart to disgrace my
man’s apparel and to cry like a woman, but I must comfort
the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose5 ought to show itself
courageous to petticoat: therefore courage, good Aliena!
CELIA I pray you bear with me. I cannot go no further.
TOUCHSTONE For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear
you: yet I should bear no cross9 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 travellers must be
content.
Enter Corin and Silvius
ROSALIND Ay, be so, good Touchstone. Look you, who comes
They stand aside
here: a young man and an old in solemn16 talk.
CORIN That is the way to make her scorn you still.
SILVIUS O Corin, that thou knew’st how I do love her!
CORIN I partly guess, for I have loved ere now.
SILVIUS No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess,
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover
As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow:
But if thy love were ever like to mine —
As sure I think did never man love so —
How many actions most ridiculous
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy26?
CORIN Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
SILVIUS O, thou didst then never love so heartily28!
If thou rememb’rest not the slightest folly29
That ever love did make thee run into,
Thou hast not loved.
Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
Wearing33 thy hearer in thy mistress’ praise,
Thou hast not loved.
Or if thou hast not broke from35 company
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not loved.
O Phoebe38, Phoebe, Phoebe!
Exit
ROSALIND Alas, poor shepherd! Searching of thy wound39, I
have by hard adventure40 found mine own.
TOUCHSTONE And I mine. I remember when I was in love, I
broke my sword upon a stone and bid him42 take that for
coming a-night43 to Jane Smile. And I remember the kissing of
her batler and the cow’s dugs that her pretty chopt44 hands
had milked; and I remember the wooing of a peascod45 instead
of her, from whom I took two cods46 and, giving her them
again, said with weeping tears, ‘Wear47 these for my sake.’ We
that are true lovers run into strange capers48; but as all is
mortal49 in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.
ROSALIND Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware50 of.
TOUCHSTONE Nay, I shall ne’er be ware of mine own wit51 till I
break my shins against it.
ROSALIND Jove, Jove! This shepherd’s passion
Is much upon my fashion54.
CELIA I pray you one of you question yond56 man
If he for gold will give us any food.
I faint almost to death.
To Corin
TOUCHSTONE Holla, you clown59!
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 even64 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 entertainment67,
Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed:
Here’s a young maid with travel much oppressed
And faints for succour70.
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 graze75:
My master is of churlish disposition
And little recks77 to find the way to heaven
By doing deeds of hospitality.
Besides, his cote, his flocks and bounds of feed79
Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote80 now,
By reason of his absence, there is nothing
That you will feed on. But what is, come see,
And in my voice83 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 erewhile85,
That little cares for buying anything.
ROSALIND
I pray thee if it stand87 with honesty,
Buy thou the cottage, pasture and the flock,
And thou shalt have to pay89 for it of us.
CELIA And we will mend90 thy wages. I like this place
And willingly could waste91 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 feeder95 be
And buy it with your gold right suddenly96.
Exeunt
Act 2 Scene 5
running scene 7
Enter Amiens, Jaques and others
AMIENS Song
Under the greenwood1 tree
Who2 loves to lie with me,
And turn his merry note3
Unto the sweet bird’s throat4,
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Here shall he see no enemy
But winter and rough weather.
JAQUES More, more, I prithee more.
AMIENS It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques.
JAQUES I thank it. More, I prithee more.
I can suck melancholy out of a song,
As a weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee more.
AMIENS My voice is ragged13. I know I cannot please you.
JAQUES I do not desire you to please me,
I do desire you to sing.
Come, more: another stanzo16 — call you ’em stanzos?
AMIENS What you will, Monsieur Jaques.
JAQUES Nay, I care not for their names. They owe me18
nothing. 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 compliment is like th’encounter22 of two
dog-apes23, and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks I
have given him a penny and he renders me the beggarly24
thanks. Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your
tongues.
AMIENS Well, I’ll end the song. Sirs, cover the while27. The
duke will drink under this tree. He hath been all this day to
A table with food and drink is set out
look29 you.
JAQUES And I have been all this day to avoid him.
He is too disputable31 for my company:
I think of as many matters32 as he, but I give