As You Like It (9 page)
Authors: William Shakespeare
Enter Orlando
Draws his sword
ORLANDO
Forbear
89
, 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
rude
94
despiser of good manners,
That in civility thou seem’st so empty?
ORLANDO
You
touched my vein at first
96
. The thorny point
Of bare distress hath ta’en from me the show
Of smooth civility: yet am I
inland bred
98
And know some
nurture
99
. But forbear, I say:
He dies that touches any of this fruit
Till I and my affairs are
answerèd
101
.
JAQUES
An you will not be answered with
reason
102
, I must die.
DUKE SENIOR
What would you have? Your
gentleness
103
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
countenance
109
Of stern commandment. But whate’er you are
That in this desert inaccessible,
Under the shade of
melancholy
112
boughs,
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time,
If ever you have looked on better days,
If ever been where bells have
knolled
115
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
enforcement
119
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
126
what help we have
That to your
wanting
127
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
weak
133
evils, age and hunger,
I will not touch a bit.
DUKE SENIOR
Go find him out.
And we will nothing
waste
136
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
unhappy
138
:
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
acts
146
being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling
147
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 pard
153
,
Jealous in
154
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
capon
157
lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise
saws
and
modern instances
159
.
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered
pantaloon
161
,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful
hose
163
, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk
shank
164
, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in
his
166
sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful
history
167
,
Is second childishness and
mere
168
oblivion,
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 to
175
. I will not trouble you
As yet, to question you about your fortunes.—
Give us some music, and, good cousin, sing.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so
unkind
179
As man’s ingratitude.
Thy tooth is not so
keen
181
,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be
rude
183
.
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
nigh
189
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters
warp
191
,
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
faithfully
196
you were,
And as mine eye doth his
effigies
197
witness
Most truly
limned
198
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 your hand,
And let me all your
fortunes
204
understand.
Exeunt
running scene 8
Enter Duke
[
Frederick
]
, Lords and Oliver
DUKE FREDERICK
Not see
him
1
since? Sir, sir, that cannot be:
But were I not the
better
part
made
2
mercy,
I should not seek an absent
argument
3
Of my revenge, thou
present
4
. 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
turn
7
thou no more
To seek a living in our territory.
Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine
Worth
seizure
10
do we seize into our hands,
Till thou canst
quit thee by thy brother’s mouth
11
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 nature
16
Make an extent upon
17
his house and lands.
Do this
expediently
and
turn him going
18
.
Exeunt
running scene 9
Enter Orlando
With a paper
ORLANDO
Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love:
And thou,
thrice-crownèd queen of night
2
, survey
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,
Thy huntress
’ name that my full life doth
sway
4
.
O Rosalind! These trees shall be my books,
And in their barks my thoughts I’ll
character
6
,
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
10
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
private
16
, 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
humour
18
well; but as there is no more
plenty
19
in it, it goes much against
my
stomach
20
. 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
wants
22
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
26
may
complain of
27
good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred.
TOUCHSTONE
Such a one is a
natural
28
philosopher. Wast ever in
court, shepherd?
CORIN
No, truly.
TOUCHSTONE
Then thou art damned.
CORIN
Nay, I
hope
32
.
TOUCHSTONE
Truly thou art damned, like an
ill-roasted egg: all
33
CORIN
For not being at court? Your reason.
TOUCHSTONE
Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never
saw’st good
manners
37
. 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
39
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 kiss
43
your hands;
that courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds.
TOUCHSTONE
Instance
45
, briefly. Come, instance.
CORIN
Why, we are
still
handling our ewes, and their
fells
46
,
you know are greasy.
TOUCHSTONE
Why, do not your courtier’s hands sweat? And is
not the
grease
49
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 of
54
our sheep
, and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier’s
hands are perfumed with
civet
56
.
TOUCHSTONE
Most shallow man! Thou
worms-meat
in
respect
57
of
a good piece of flesh indeed. Learn of the wise, and
perpend
59
: civet is of a baser birth than tar, the very uncleanly
flux
of a cat.
Mend
60
the instance, shepherd.
CORIN
You have too courtly a wit for me. I’ll
rest
61
.
TOUCHSTONE
Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow
man. God
make incision
in thee. Thou art
raw
63
.
CORIN
Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn
that
I eat,
get
64
that I
wear, owe no man hate, envy no man’s happiness, glad of
other men’s good,
content with my harm
66
, and the greatest of
my pride is to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck.
TOUCHSTONE
That is another
simple
68
sin in you: to bring the
ewes and the rams together and to
offer
69
to get your living by
the copulation of
cattle
, to be
bawd
to a
bell-wether
70
, and to
betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to a
crooked-pated
71
, old,
cuckoldly
ram,
out of
72
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.