SCENE IV, The Forest. Enter JAQUES, AMIENS, and three other LORDS, Jaques. More, more; I pr'ythee more. Amiens. It will make you melancholy, Jaques. Jaques. I thank it; I do love it better than laughing. Amiens. Those, that are in the extremity of either, are abominable fellows, and betray themselves to every modern censure, worse than drunkards. Jaques. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation: nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all these; but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects; and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which, my after rumination wraps me, is a most humorous sadness.-Sing, I pr'ythee sing. Amiens. My voice is rugged: I know I cannot please you. Jaques. I do not desire you to please me, I desire you to sing. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel can suck eggs. Come, warble, warble. SONG. AMIENS. Under the greenwood tree, 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. Who doth ambition shun, And pleas'd with what he gets, Here shall he see No enemy, But winter and rough weather. Jaques. I'll go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt. Amiens. And we'll go seek the duke: his banquet is prepared. [Exeunt severally. SCENE V. The Forest of Arden. Enter ROSALIND, in Boy's Clothes, for Ganymede; CELIA, dressed like a Shepherdess, and TOUCHSTONE. Ros. O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits! not weary. Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel, and cry like a woman: but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat! therefore, courage, good Aliena. Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I can go no further. Touch. For my part I had rather bear with you, than bear you; yet I should bear no cross, if I did bear you; for, I think you have no money in your purse, Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden. 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. Enter CORIN and SYLVIUS. Corin. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Sylv. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her. Corin. I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now. Sylv. 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? Corin. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. Thou hast not lov'd: Or if thou hast not talked as I do now Or if thou hast not broke from company, Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, 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 o'nights to Jane Smile; and I remember the kissing of her batlet, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopped hands had milked: 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 mortal in folly. Ros. Thou speak'st wiser than thou art 'ware of. Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be aware of mine own wit, 'till I break my shins against it. Cel. I pray you, one of you question yon man, If he for gold will give us any food; I faint almost to death. Touch. Holloa! you clown! Ros. Peace, fool! he's not thy kinsman. Touch. Your betters, sir. Corin. Else they are very wretched. Ros. Peace, I say: Good even to you, friend. Corin. Fair, sir, I pity her, And wish for her sake, more than for mine own, And do not sheer the fleeces that I graze; My master is of churlish disposition, Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed, Corin. That young swain, that you saw here erewhile, That little cares for buying any thing. Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, And buy it with your gold right suddenly. [Exeunt. 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. |