As You Like It, William Shakespeare [the false prince TXT] 📗

churlish disposition
And little recks to find the way to heaven
By doing deeds of hospitality:
Besides, his cote, his flocks and bounds of feed
Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now,
By reason of his absence, there is nothing
That you will feed on; but what is, come see.
And in my voice 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 erewhile,
That little cares for buying any thing.

Rosalind

I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
Buy thou the cottage, pasture and the flock,
And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.

Celia

And we will mend thy wages. I like this place.
And willingly could waste 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 feeder be
And buy it with your gold right suddenly. Exeunt.

Scene V

The Forest.

Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others. Song. Amiens

Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird’s throat,
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 ragged: I know I cannot please you. Jaques I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to sing. Come, more; another stanzo: call you ’em stanzos? Amiens What you will, Monsieur Jaques. Jaques Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me 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 the encounter of two dog-apes, and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks I have given him a penny and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues. Amiens Well, I’ll end the song. Sirs, cover the while; the duke will drink under this tree. He hath been all this day to look you. Jaques And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too disputable for my company: I think of as many matters as he, but I give heaven thanks and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come. Song. Amiens

Who doth ambition shun All together here.
And loves to live i’ the sun,
Seeking the food he eats
And pleased with what he gets,
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.

Jaques I’ll give you a verse to this note that I made yesterday in despite of my invention. Amiens And I’ll sing it. Jaques

Thus it goes:⁠—

If it do come to pass
That any man turn ass,
Leaving his wealth and ease,
A stubborn will to please,
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame:
Here shall he see
Gross fools as he,
An if he will come to me.

Amiens What’s that “ducdame”? Jaques ’Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. I’ll go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, I’ll rail against all the first-born of Egypt. Amiens And I’ll go seek the duke: his banquet is prepared. Exeunt severally. Scene VI

The forest.

Enter Orlando and Adam. Adam Dear master, I can go no further. O, I die for food! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master. Orlando Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, I will either be food for it or bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers. For my sake be comfortable; hold death awhile at the arm’s end: I will here be with thee presently; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I will give thee leave to die: but if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said! thou lookest cheerly, and I’ll be with thee quickly. Yet thou liest in the bleak air: come, I will bear thee to some shelter; and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! Exeunt. Scene VII

The forest.

A table set out. Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and Lords like outlaws. Duke Senior

I think he be transform’d into a beast;
For I can no where find him like a man.

First Lord

My lord, he is but even now gone hence:
Here was he merry, hearing of a song.

Duke Senior

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 He saves my labour by his own approach. Duke Senior

Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this,
That your poor friends must woo your company?
What, you look merrily!

Jaques

A fool, a fool! I met a fool i’ the 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 o’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