As You Like It
Act II, Scene 7
Another part of the Forest of Arden.
- A table set out. Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and Lords, like
Duke Senior1 - 2
- I think he be transform’d into a beast,
- For I can no where find him like a man.
First Lord in Arden3 - 4
- My lord, he is but even now gone hence;
- Here was he merry, hearing of a song.
Duke Senior5 - 7
- If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
- We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.
- Go seek him, tell him I would speak with him.
- Enter Jaques.
First Lord in Arden8
- He saves my labor by his own approach.
Duke Senior9 - 11
- Why, how now, monsieur, what a life is this,
- That your poor friends must woo your company?
- What, you look merrily!
Jaques12 - 34
- A fool, a fool! I met a fool i’ th’ 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,
- And looking on it, with lack-lustre eye,
- Says very wisely, “It is ten a’ clock.
- Thus we may see,” quoth he, “how the world wags.
- ’Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
- And after one 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 thereby 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.
- What fool is this?
Jaques36 - 43
- O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier,
- And says, if ladies be but young and fair,
- They have the gift to know it; and in his brain,
- Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
- After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm’d
- With observation, the which he vents
- In mangled forms. O that I were a fool!
- I am ambitious for a motley coat.
- Thou shalt have one.
Jaques45 - 62
- It is my only suit—
- Provided that you weed your better judgments
- Of all opinion that grows rank in them
- That I am wise. I must have liberty
- Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
- To blow on whom I please, for so fools have;
- And they that are most galled with my folly,
- They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so?
- The why is plain as way to parish church:
- He that a fool doth very wisely hit
- 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 squand’ring 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 th’ infected world,
- If they will patiently receive my medicine.
- Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do.
- What, for a counter, would I do but good?
Duke Senior65 - 70
- Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin:
- For thou thyself hast been a libertine,
- As sensual as the brutish sting itself,
- And all th’ embossed sores, and headed evils,
- That thou with license of free foot hast caught,
- Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.
Jaques71 - 88
- 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 weary 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 neighbor?
- Or what is he of basest function,
- That says his bravery is not on my cost,
- Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits
- His folly to the mettle of my speech?
- There then! How then? What then? Let me see wherein
- My tongue hath wrong’d him; if it do him right,
- Then he hath wrong’d himself. If he be free,
- Why then my taxing like a wild goose flies,
- Unclaim’d of any man. But who comes here?
- Enter Orlando with his sword drawn.
- Forbear, and eat no more.
- Why, I have eat none yet.
- Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv’d.
- Of what kind should this cock come of?
Duke Senior93 - 95
- Art thou thus bolden’d, man, by thy distress?
- Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
- That in civility thou seem’st so empty?
Orlando96 - 101
- 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 bred,
- And know some nurture. But forbear, I say,
- He dies that touches any of this fruit
- Till I and my affairs are answered.
Jaques102 - 103
- And you will not be answer’d with reason,
- I must die.
Duke Senior104 - 105
- What would you have? Your gentleness shall force,
- More than your force move us to gentleness.
- I almost die for food, and let me have it.
- Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.
Orlando108 - 121
- 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
- Of stern command’ment. Bur what e’er you are
- That in this desert inaccessible,
- 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 sate at any good man’s feast,
- If ever from your eyelids wip’d a tear,
- And know what ’tis to pity, and be pitied,
- Let gentleness my strong enforcement be,
- In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword.
Duke Senior122 - 128
- True is it that we have seen better days,
- And have with holy bell been knoll’d to church,
- And sat at good men’s feasts, and wip’d our eyes
- Of drops that sacred pity hath engend’red;
- And therefore sit you down in gentleness,
- And take upon command what help we have
- That to your wanting may be minist’red.
Orlando129 - 135
- 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 first suffic’d,
- Oppress’d with two weak evils, age and hunger,
- I will not touch a bit.
Duke Senior136 - 137
- Go find him out,
- And we will nothing waste till you return.
- I thank ye, and be blest for your good comfort!
Duke Senior139 - 142
- Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy:
- This wide and universal theatre
- Presents more woeful pageants than the scene
- Wherein we play in.
Jaques143 - 170
- 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 being seven ages. At first the infant,
- Mewling 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,
- Jealous in honor, 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 lin’d,
- With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
- Full of wise saws and modern instances;
- And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
- Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
- With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side,
- His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wide
- For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
- Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
- 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.
- Enter Orlando with Adam.
Duke Senior171 - 172
- Welcome. Set down your venerable burden,
- And let him feed.
- I thank you most for him.
Adam174 - 175
- So had you need,
- I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
Duke Senior176 - 178
- Welcome, fall to. I will not trouble you
- As yet to question you about your fortunes.
- Give us some music, and, good cousin, sing.
Amiens179 - 195
- Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
- Thou art not so unkind
- As man’s ingratitude;
- Thy tooth is not so keen,
- Because thou art not seen,
- Although thy breath be rude.
- Heigh-ho, sing heigh-ho! Unto the green holly,
- Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.
- Then heigh-ho, the holly!
- This life is most jolly.
- Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
- That dost not bite so nigh
- As benefits forgot;
- Though thou the waters warp,
- Thy sting is not so sharp
- As friend rememb’red not.
- Heigh-ho, sing, etc.
Duke Senior196 - 205
- If that you were the good Sir Rowland’s son,
- As you have whisper’d faithfully you were,
- And as mine eye doth his effigies witness
- Most truly limn’d and living in your face,
- Be truly welcome hither. I am the Duke
- That lov’d 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 understand.