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.

But winter and rough weather.

Jaq. More, more, I prithee, more.

[Exeunt.

200

Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. Jaq. I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee,

more.

210

Ami. My voice is ragged: I know I cannot please you. Jaq. I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to sing. Come, more; another stanzo: call you 'em stanzos ? Ami. What you will, Monsieur Jaques.

Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing. Will you sing?

Ami. More at your request than to please myself.

Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you; but that they call compliment is like the encounter of two dogapes; 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.

Ami. 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 for you.

Jaq. 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.

230

Who doth ambition shun, [All together here.

And loves to live " the sun,

Seeking the food he eats,

And pleas'd with what he gets,

Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note that I made yesterday

in despite of my invention.

Ami. And I'll sing it.

Jaq. 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.

Ami. What's that 'ducdame'?

240

250

Jaq. '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.

Ami. And I'll go seek the duke: his banquet is prepar'd. [Exeunt severally.

The same.

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.

258

Orl. Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield anything 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 cheerily, 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. 270

The same.

A table set out. Enter DUKE senior, AMIENS, and Lords like outlaws.

Duke S. 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 S. 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 S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this,

280

That your poor friends must woo your company?

What, you look merrily!

Jaq. 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 sèt terms, and yet a motley fool.
Good morrow, fool,' quoth I.

No, sir,' quoth he,

Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fòrtune :'

And then he drew a dial from his poke,

290

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 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.

Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn.

Orl. Forbear, and eat no more.

Jaq.

Why, I have eat none yet.

Ort. Nor shalt not, till nècessity be serv'd.

Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of?

Duke S. 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?

Orl. 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:

300

310

T

He dies that touches any of this fruit

Till I and my affairs are answered.

Jaq. An you will not be answer'd with reason, I must die. Duke S. What would you have?

force

Your gentleness shall

320

More than your force move us to gentleness.

Orl. I almost die for food; and let me have it.
Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.

Orl. 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 commandment. But whate'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,

330

Let gentleness my strong enforcement be:

In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword.

Duke S. 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 engender'd:
And therefore sit you down in gentleness,
And take upon command what help we have
That to your wanting may be minister'd.

Orl. 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.

you

And we will nothing waste till return.

340

350

Orl. I thank ye; and be blest for your good comfort! [Exit. Duke S. Thou seest wè are not all alòne unhappy.

This wide and universal theatre

Presents more woeful pageants than the scene

Wherein wè play.

Jaq.

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,