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Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden: the more fool I; when I was at home, I was in a better place; but travellers must be content.

Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone: -Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in solemn talk.

Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still.
Syl. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her!
Cor. I partly guess; for I have loved ere now.

Syl. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover
As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow:
But if thy love were ever like to mine,
(As sure I think did never man love so),
How many actions most ridiculous
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy ?

Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.

Syl. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily : If thou remember'st not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into, Thou hast not loved : Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, Thou hast not loved : Or if thou hast not broke from company, Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, Thou hast not loved : O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe! [Exit SYLVIUS.

Ros. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy wound, I have by hard adventure found mine own.

Touch. And I mine : I remember, when I was in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming anight to Jane Smile: and I remember the kissing of her batlet,* and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopp'd hands had milk'd: and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her; from whom I took two cods, and, giving her them again, said, with weeping tears, Wear these for my sake. We, that are true lovers, run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortalf in folly.

Ros. Thou speak'st wiser than thou art 'ware of.

Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be 'ware of mine own wit, till I break my shins against it. Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion

Is much upon my fashion.
Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale with me.

Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond' man,
If he for gold will give us any food;
I faint almost to death.

Touch. Holla; you, clown!
Ros. Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman.
Cor. Who calls ?

* The instrument with which washers beat clothes.
† Abounding.

Touch. Your betters, Sir.
Cor. Else are they very wretched.

Ros. Peace, I say :-
Good even to you, friend.

Cor. And to you, gentle Sir, and to you all.

Ros. I prythee, shepherd, if that love or gold,
Can in this desert place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may rest ourselves, and feed :
Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd,
And faints for succour.

Cor. Fair Sir, I pity her,
And wish, for her sake, more than for mine own,
My fortunes were more able to relieve her:
But I am shepherd to another man,
And do not sheer the fleeces that I graze;
My master is of churlish disposition,

And little recks to find the way to heaven is !!!
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

will feed on: but what is, come see, And in my voice most welcome shall you be.

Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture ?

Cor. That young swain that you saw here but erewhile, That little cares for buying anything.

Ros. 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.

Cel. And we will mend thy wages: I like this place,
And willingly could waste my time in it.

Cor. 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.


SCENE V.-The same.
Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and others.

Ami. Under the greenwood tree,

Who loves to lie with me,
And tune 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.
Jaq. More, more, I prythee, more.
Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques.


Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr’ythee, more. I can suck melan. choly out of a song, as a weazel sucks eggs: More, I prythee,

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 stanza; Call you them stanzas?

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 dog-apes : and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks, I have given him a penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Comc, 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 you.

Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too dispútable* 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.

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. 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,
Ducdàme, ducdùme, ducdùme;

Here shall he see,

Gross fools as he,

An if he will come to Ami. Ami. What's that ducdàme?

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 prepared.

[Exeunt severally. * Disputatious.

SCENE VI.-The same.

Enter ORLANDO and ADAM. Adam. Dear master, I can go no further: 0, I die for food ! Ilere lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master.

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. T'hy conceit is nearer death than thy powers. For my sake, be comfortable; hold death awhile at the arm's end: I'll here be with thee presently; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I'll give thee leave to die ; but if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said ! thou look’st 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 anything in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam !

[Exeunt. SCENE VII.-The same. A table set out.- Enter DUKE senior, AMIENS, Lords, and others.

Duke s. I think he be transform'd into a beast; For I can nowhere find him like a man.

1 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.

1 Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach.

Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur ! what a life is this
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 raiļd on lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms,--and yet a motley fool.
Good-morrow fooi, 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 may we see, quoth he, how the world wags;
'Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine;
And after an hour more, 'turill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot,

* Made up of discords.

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.*

Duke S. What fool is this?

Jaq. 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 crammid
With observation, the which he vents
In mangled forms: 0, that I were a fool !
I am ambitious for a motley coat.

Duke S. Thou shalt have one.

Jaq. It is my only suit;f
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 anatomized
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 the infected world,
If they will patiently receive my medicine.

Duke 8. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do.
Jaq. What, for a inter, I would I do but good ?

Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin:
For thou thyself hast been a libertine,
As sensual as the brutish sting itself ;
And all the embossed sores, and headed evils,
That thou with license of free foot hast caught,
Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.

Jaq. 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 very means do ebb? What woman in the city do I name, When that I say the city-woman bears * The fool was anciently dressed in a party-coloured coat. + A play upon the double meaning of the word : suit of clothes and peti. * I. e. for the wager of a counter.


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