As You Like It: Act 2, Scene 7
[A picnic laid out.] Enter DUKE SENIOR,
AMIENS, and Lords like outlaws.
1I think he be transform'd into a beast;
2For I can no where find him like a man.
3My lord, he is but even now gone hence:
4Here was he merry, hearing of a song.
5If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
6We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.
7Go, seek him: tell him I would speak with him.
8He saves my labour by his own approach.
9Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this,
10That your poor friends must woo your company?
11What, you look merrily!
12A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the forest,
13A motley fool; a miserable world!
14As I do live by food, I met a fool
15Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun,
16And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms,
17In good set terms and yet a motley fool.
18'Good morrow, fool,' quoth I. 'No, sir,' quoth he,
19'Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune:'
20And then he drew a dial from his poke,
21And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
22Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock:
23Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags:
24'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
25And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;
26And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
27And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
28And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear
29The motley fool thus moral on the time,
30My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
31That fools should be so deep-contemplative,
32And I did laugh sans intermission
33An hour by his dial. O noble fool!
34A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.
35What fool is this?
36O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier,
37And says, if ladies be but young and fair,
38They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,
39Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
40After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd
41With observation, the which he vents
42In mangled forms. O that I were a fool!
43I am ambitious for a motley coat.
44Thou shalt have one.
44It is my only suit;
45Provided that you weed your better judgments
46Of all opinion that grows rank in them
47That I am wise. I must have liberty
48Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
49To blow on whom I please; for so fools have;
50And they that are most galled with my folly,
51They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so?
52The 'why' is plain as way to parish church:
53He that a fool doth very wisely hit
54Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
55Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not,
56The wise man's folly is anatomized
57Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool.
58Invest me in my motley; give me leave
59To speak my mind, and I will through and through
60Cleanse the foul body of the infected world,
61If they will patiently receive my medicine.
62Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do.
63What, for a counter, would I do but good?
64Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin:
65For thou thyself hast been a libertine,
66As sensual as the brutish sting itself;
67And all the embossed sores and headed evils,
68That thou with license of free foot hast caught,
69Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.
70Why, who cries out on pride,
71That can therein tax any private party?
72Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,
73Till that the weary very means do ebb?
74What woman in the city do I name,
75When that I say the city-woman bears
76The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?
77Who can come in and say that I mean her,
78When such a one as she such is her neighbour?
79Or what is he of basest function
80That says his bravery is not of my cost,
81Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits
82His folly to the mettle of my speech?
83There then; how then? what then? Let me see wherein
84My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right,
85Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free,
86Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies,
87Unclaim'd of any man. But who comes here?
Enter ORLANDO [with his sword drawn].
88Forbear, and eat no more.
88Why, I have eat none yet.
89Nor shalt not, till necessity be served.
90Of what kind should this cock come of?
91Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress,
92Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
93That in civility thou seem'st so empty?
94You touch'd my vein at first: the thorny point
95Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show
96Of smooth civility: yet am I inland bred
97And know some nurture. But forbear, I say:
98He dies that touches any of this fruit
99Till I and my affairs are answered.
100An you will not be answered with reason,
101I must die.
102What would you have? Your gentleness shall force
103More than your force move us to gentleness.
104I almost die for food; and let me have it.
105Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.
106Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you:
107I thought that all things had been savage here;
108And therefore put I on the countenance
109Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are
110That in this desert inaccessible,
111Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
112Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time
113If ever you have look'd on better days,
114If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church,
115If ever sat at any good man's feast,
116If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear
117And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied,
118Let gentleness my strong enforcement be:
119In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword.
120True is it that we have seen better days,
121And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church
122And sat at good men's feasts and wiped our eyes
123Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd:
124And therefore sit you down in gentleness
125And take upon command what help we have
126That to your wanting may be minister'd.
127Then but forbear your food a little while,
128Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn
129And give it food. There is an old poor man,
130Who after me hath many a weary step
131Limp'd in pure love: till he be first sufficed,
132Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger,
133I will not touch a bit.
133Go find him out,
134And we will nothing waste till you return.
135I thank ye; and be blest for your good comfort!
136Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy:
137This wide and universal theatre
138Presents more woeful pageants than the scene
139Wherein we play in.
139All the world's a stage,
140And all the men and women merely players:
141They have their exits and their entrances;
142And one man in his time plays many parts,
143His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
144Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
145And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
146And shining morning face, creeping like snail
147Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
148Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
149Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
150Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
151Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
152Seeking the bubble reputation
153Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
154In fair round belly with good capon lined,
155With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
156Full of wise saws and modern instances;
157And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
158Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
159With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
160His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
161For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
162Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
163And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
164That ends this strange eventful history,
165Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
166Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Enter ORLANDO, with ADAM.
167Welcome. Set down your venerable burden,
168And let him feed.
169I thank you most for him.
169So had you need:
170I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
171Welcome; fall to: I will not trouble you
172As yet, to question you about your fortunes.
173Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing.
174Blow, blow, thou winter wind.
175Thou art not so unkind
176As man's ingratitude;
177Thy tooth is not so keen,
178Because thou art not seen,
179Although thy breath be rude.
180Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
181Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
182Then, heigh-ho, the holly!
183This life is most jolly.
184Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
185That dost not bite so nigh
186As benefits forgot:
187Though thou the waters warp,
188Thy sting is not so sharp
189As friend remember'd not.
190Heigh-ho! sing, etc.
191If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son,
192As you have whisper'd faithfully you were,
193And as mine eye doth his effigies witness
194Most truly limn'd and living in your face,
195Be truly welcome hither: I am the duke
196That loved your father: the residue of your fortune,
197Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man,
198Thou art right welcome as thy master is.
199Support him by the arm. Give me your hand,
200And let me all your fortunes understand.