As You Like It by William Shakespeare
Act 2 - Scene 7
The forest
(stage directions) : A table set out. Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and LORDS, like outlaws
Duke : I think he be transform'd into a beast;
[p]For I can nowhere find him
like a man.
First Lord : My lord, he is but even now gone hence;
[p]Here was he merry, hearing
of a song.
Duke : If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
[p]We shall have shortly discord
in the spheres.
[p]Go seek him; tell him I would speak with him.
(stage directions) : Enter JAQUES
First Lord : He saves my labour by his own approach.
Duke : Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this,
[p]That your poor friends
must woo your company?
[p]What, you look merrily!
Jaques (lord) : A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' th' forest,
[p]A motley fool. A
miserable world!
[p]As I do live by food, I met a fool,
[p]Who laid
him down and bask'd him in the sun,
[p]And rail'd on Lady Fortune in
good terms,
[p]In good set terms- and yet a motley fool.
[p]'Good
morrow, fool,' quoth I; 'No, sir,' quoth he,
[p]'Call me not fool till
heaven hath sent me fortune.'
[p]And then he drew a dial from his
poke,
[p]And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
[p]Says very wisely,
'It is ten o'clock;
[p]Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world
wags;
[p]'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine;
[p]And after one hour
more 'twill be eleven;
[p]And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and
ripe,
[p]And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
[p]And thereby
hangs a tale.' When I did hear
[p]The motley fool thus moral on the
time,
[p]My lungs began to crow like chanticleer
[p]That fools should
be so deep contemplative;
[p]And I did laugh sans intermission
[p]An
hour by his dial. O noble fool!
[p]A worthy fool! Motley's the only
wear.
Duke : What fool is this?
Jaques (lord) : O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier,
[p]And says, if ladies
be but young and fair,
[p]They have the gift to know it; and in his
brain,
[p]Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
[p]After a voyage,
he hath strange places cramm'd
[p]With observation, the which he
vents
[p]In mangled forms. O that I were a fool!
[p]I am ambitious for
a motley coat.
Duke : Thou shalt have one.
Jaques (lord) : It is my only suit,
[p]Provided that you weed your better
judgments
[p]Of all opinion that grows rank in them
[p]That I am wise.
I must have liberty
[p]Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
[p]To
blow on whom I please, for so fools have;
[p]And they that are most
galled with my folly,
[p]They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they
so?
[p]The why is plain as way to parish church:
[p]He that a fool
doth very wisely hit
[p]Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
[p]Not
to seem senseless of the bob; if not,
[p]The wise man's folly is
anatomiz'd
[p]Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool.
[p]Invest
me in my motley; give me leave
[p]To speak my mind, and I will through
and through
[p]Cleanse the foul body of th' infected world,
[p]If they
will patiently receive my medicine.
Duke : Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do.
Jaques (lord) : What, for a counter, would I do but good?
Duke : Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin;
[p]For thou thyself hast
been a libertine,
[p]As sensual as the brutish sting itself;
[p]And
all th' embossed sores and headed evils
[p]That thou with license of
free foot hast caught
[p]Wouldst thou disgorge into the general
world.
Jaques (lord) : Why, who cries out on pride
[p]That can therein tax any private
party?
[p]Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,
[p]Till that the
wearer's very means do ebb?
[p]What woman in the city do I
name
[p]When that I say the city-woman bears
[p]The cost of princes on
unworthy shoulders?
[p]Who can come in and say that I mean
her,
[p]When such a one as she such is her neighbour?
[p]Or what is he
of basest function
[p]That says his bravery is not on my
cost,
[p]Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits
[p]His folly to
the mettle of my speech?
[p]There then! how then? what then? Let me
see wherein
[p]My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right,
[p]Then
he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free,
[p]Why then my taxing like a
wild-goose flies,
[p]Unclaim'd of any man. But who comes here?
(stage directions) : Enter ORLANDO with his sword drawn
Orlando : Forbear, and eat no more.
Jaques (lord) : Why, I have eat none yet.
Orlando : Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd.
Jaques (lord) : Of what kind should this cock come of?
Duke : Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress?
[p]Or else a rude
despiser of good manners,
[p]That in civility thou seem'st so empty?
Orlando : You touch'd my vein at first: the thorny point
[p]Of bare distress
hath ta'en from me the show
[p]Of smooth civility; yet am I inland
bred,
[p]And know some nurture. But forbear, I say;
[p]He dies that
touches any of this fruit
[p]Till I and my affairs are answered.
Jaques (lord) : An you will not be answer'd with reason, I must die.
Duke : What would you have? Your gentleness shall force
[p]More than your
force move us to gentleness.
Orlando : I almost die for food, and let me have it.
Duke : Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.
Orlando : Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you;
[p]I thought that all
things had been savage here,
[p]And therefore put I on the
countenance
[p]Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are
[p]That in
this desert inaccessible,
[p]Under the shade of melancholy
boughs,
[p]Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time;
[p]If ever you
have look'd on better days,
[p]If ever been where bells have knoll'd
to church,
[p]If ever sat at any good man's feast,
[p]If ever from
your eyelids wip'd a tear,
[p]And know what 'tis to pity and be
pitied,
[p]Let gentleness my strong enforcement be;
[p]In the which
hope I blush, and hide my sword.
Duke : True is it that we have seen better days,
[p]And have with holy bell
been knoll'd to church,
[p]And sat at good men's feasts, and wip'd our
eyes
[p]Of drops that sacred pity hath engend'red;
[p]And therefore
sit you down in gentleness,
[p]And take upon command what help we
have
[p]That to your wanting may be minist'red.
Orlando : Then but forbear your food a little while,
[p]Whiles, like a doe, I go
to find my fawn,
[p]And give it food. There is an old poor man
[p]Who
after me hath many a weary step
[p]Limp'd in pure love; till he be
first suffic'd,
[p]Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger,
[p]I
will not touch a bit.
Duke : Go find him out.
[p]And we will nothing waste till you return.
Orlando : I thank ye; and be blest for your good comfort! Exit
Duke : Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy:
[p]This wide and universal
theatre
[p]Presents more woeful pageants than the scene
[p]Wherein we
play in.
Jaques (lord) : All the world's a stage,
[p]And all the men and women merely
players;
[p]They have their exits and their entrances;
[p]And one man
in his time plays many parts,
[p]His acts being seven ages. At first
the infant,
[p]Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms;
[p]Then the
whining school-boy, with his satchel
[p]And shining morning face,
creeping like snail
[p]Unwillingly to school. And then the
lover,
[p]Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
[p]Made to his
mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
[p]Full of strange oaths, and
bearded like the pard,
[p]Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in
quarrel,
[p]Seeking the bubble reputation
[p]Even in the cannon's
mouth. And then the justice,
[p]In fair round belly with good capon
lin'd,
[p]With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
[p]Full of wise
saws and modern instances;
[p]And so he plays his part. The sixth age
shifts
[p]Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
[p]With spectacles on
nose and pouch on side,
[p]His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too
wide
[p]For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
[p]Turning
again toward childish treble, pipes
[p]And whistles in his sound. Last
scene of all,
[p]That ends this strange eventful history,
[p]Is second
childishness and mere oblivion;
[p]Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste,
sans every thing.
(stage directions) : Re-enter ORLANDO with ADAM
Duke : Welcome. Set down your venerable burden,
[p]And let him feed.
Orlando : I thank you most for him.
Adam : So had you need;
[p]I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
Duke : Welcome; fall to. I will not trouble you
[p]As yet to question you
about your fortunes.
[p]Give us some music; and, good cousin,
sing.
[p] SONG
[p] Blow, blow, thou winter
wind,
[p] Thou art not so unkind
[p] As man's
ingratitude;
[p] Thy tooth is not so keen,
[p] Because
thou art not seen,
[p] Although thy breath be
rude.
[p]Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly.
[p]Most
friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.
[p] Then,
heigh-ho, the holly!
[p] This life is most jolly.
[p]
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
[p] That dost not bite so
nigh
[p] As benefits forgot;
[p] Though thou the
waters warp,
[p] Thy sting is not so sharp
[p] As
friend rememb'red not.
[p]Heigh-ho! sing, &c.
Duke : If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son,
[p]As you have whisper'd
faithfully you were,
[p]And as mine eye doth his effigies
witness
[p]Most truly limn'd and living in your face,
[p]Be truly
welcome hither. I am the Duke
[p]That lov'd your father. The residue
of your fortune,
[p]Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man,
[p]Thou
art right welcome as thy master is.
[p]Support him by the arm. Give me
your hand,
[p]And let me all your fortunes understand. Exeunt
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Next: Act 3 - Scene 1
