Henry the Sixt




Executive Director's Notes:

In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all
the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have
been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they
are presented herein:

  Barnardo. Who's there?
  Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold
your selfe

   Bar. Long liue the King

***

As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words
or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the
original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling
to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions
that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u,
above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming
Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .

The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a
time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in
place of some "w"'s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day,
as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend
more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.

You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I
have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an
extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a
very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare.  My father read an
assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University
in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the
purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available
. . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes,
that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a
variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous
for signing his name with several different spellings.

So, please take this into account when reading the comments below
made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors
that are "not" errors. . . .

So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors,

Part of Henry the Sixt.

Michael S. Hart

Executive Director


***


Scanner's Notes: What this is and isn't.  This was taken from
a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can
come in ASCII to the printed text.

The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the
conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling,
punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the
printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put
together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the
Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified
spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded
abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within
brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don't like that
you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a
purer Shakespeare.

Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual
differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may
be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between
this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer's
habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and
then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then
continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn't thrown away but
incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.
The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different
First Folio editions' best pages.

If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation
errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel
free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best
etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com
and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.

David Reed

As you Like it

Actus primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

  Orlando. As I remember Adam, it was vpon this fashion
bequeathed me by will, but poore a thousand
Crownes, and as thou saist, charged my brother
on his blessing to breed mee well: and
there begins my sadnesse: My brother Iaques he keepes
at schoole, and report speakes goldenly of his profit:
for my part, he keepes me rustically at home, or (to speak
more properly) staies me heere at home vnkept: for call
you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs
not from the stalling of an Oxe? his horses are bred
better, for besides that they are faire with their feeding,
they are taught their mannage, and to that end Riders
deerely hir'd: but I (his brother) gaine nothing vnder
him but growth, for the which his Animals on his
dunghils are as much bound to him as I: besides this nothing
that he so plentifully giues me, the something that
nature gaue mee, his countenance seemes to take from
me: hee lets mee feede with his Hindes, barres mee the
place of a brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my
gentility with my education. This is it Adam that
grieues me, and the spirit of my Father, which I thinke
is within mee, begins to mutinie against this seruitude.
I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise
remedy how to auoid it.
Enter Oliuer.

  Adam. Yonder comes my Master, your brother

   Orlan. Goe a-part Adam, and thou shalt heare how
he will shake me vp

   Oli. Now Sir, what make you heere?
  Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing

   Oli. What mar you then sir?
  Orl. Marry sir, I am helping you to mar that which
God made, a poore vnworthy brother of yours with
idlenesse

   Oliuer. Marry sir be better employed, and be naught
a while

   Orlan. Shall I keepe your hogs, and eat huskes with
them? what prodigall portion haue I spent, that I should
come to such penury?
  Oli. Know you where you are sir?
  Orl. O sir, very well: heere in your Orchard

   Oli. Know you before whom sir?
  Orl. I, better then him I am before knowes mee: I
know you are my eldest brother, and in the gentle condition
of bloud you should so know me: the courtesie of
nations allowes you my better, in that you are the first
borne, but the same tradition takes not away my bloud,
were there twenty brothers betwixt vs: I haue as much
of my father in mee, as you, albeit I confesse your comming
before me is neerer to his reuerence

   Oli. What Boy

   Orl. Come, come elder brother, you are too yong in this

   Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me villaine?
  Orl. I am no villaine: I am the yongest sonne of Sir
Rowland de Boys, he was my father, and he is thrice a villaine
that saies such a father begot villaines: wert thou
not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy
throat, till this other had puld out thy tongue for saying
so, thou hast raild on thy selfe

   Adam. Sweet Masters bee patient, for your Fathers
remembrance, be at accord

   Oli. Let me goe I say

   Orl. I will not till I please: you shall heare mee: my
father charg'd you in his will to giue me good education:
you haue train'd me like a pezant, obscuring and
hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities: the spirit
of my father growes strong in mee, and I will no longer
endure it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become
a gentleman, or giue mee the poore allottery my
father left me by testament, with that I will goe buy my
fortunes

   Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg when that is spent?
Well sir, get you in. I will not long be troubled with
you: you shall haue some part of your will, I pray you
leaue me

   Orl. I will no further offend you, then becomes mee
for my good

   Oli. Get you with him, you olde dogge

   Adam. Is old dogge my reward: most true, I haue
lost my teeth in your seruice: God be with my olde master,
he would not haue spoke such a word.

Ex. Orl. Ad.

  Oli. Is it euen so, begin you to grow vpon me? I will
physicke your ranckenesse, and yet giue no thousand
crownes neyther: holla Dennis.
Enter Dennis.

  Den. Calls your worship?
  Oli. Was not Charles the Dukes Wrastler heere to
speake with me?
  Den. So please you, he is heere at the doore, and importunes
accesse to you

   Oli. Call him in: 'twill be a good way: and to morrow
the wrastling is.
Enter Charles.

  Cha. Good morrow to your worship

   Oli. Good Mounsier Charles: what's the new newes
at the new Court?
  Charles. There's no newes at the Court Sir, but the
olde newes: that is, the old Duke is banished by his yonger
brother the new Duke, and three or foure louing
Lords haue put themselues into voluntary exile with
him, whose lands and reuenues enrich the new Duke,
therefore he giues them good leaue to wander

   Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind the Dukes daughter bee
banished with her Father?
  Cha. O no; for the Dukes daughter her Cosen so
loues her, being euer from their Cradles bred together,
that hee would haue followed her exile, or haue died to
stay behind her; she is at the Court, and no lesse beloued
of her Vncle, then his owne daughter, and neuer two Ladies
loued as they doe

   Oli. Where will the old Duke liue?
  Cha. They say hee is already in the Forrest of Arden,
and a many merry men with him; and there they liue
like the old Robin Hood of England: they say many yong
Gentlemen flocke to him euery day, and fleet the time
carelesly as they did in the golden world

   Oli. What, you wrastle to morrow before the new
Duke

   Cha. Marry doe I sir: and I came to acquaint you
with a matter: I am giuen sir secretly to vnderstand, that
your yonger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come
in disguis'd against mee to try a fall: to morrow sir I
wrastle for my credit, and hee that escapes me without
some broken limbe, shall acquit him well: your brother
is but young and tender, and for your loue I would bee
loth to foyle him, as I must for my owne honour if hee
come in: therefore out of my loue to you, I came hither
to acquaint you withall, that either you might stay him
from his intendment, or brooke such disgrace well as he
shall runne into, in that it is a thing of his owne search,
and altogether against my will

   Oli. Charles , I thanke thee for thy loue to me, which
thou shalt finde I will most kindly requite: I had my
selfe notice of my Brothers purpose heerein, and haue by
vnder-hand meanes laboured to disswade him from it;
but he is resolute. Ile tell thee Charles, it is the stubbornest
yong fellow of France, full of ambition, an enuious
emulator of euery mans good parts, a secret & villanous
contriuer against mee his naturall brother: therefore vse
thy discretion, I had as liefe thou didst breake his necke
as his finger. And thou wert best looke to't; for if thou
dost him any slight disgrace, or if hee doe not mightilie
grace himselfe on thee, hee will practise against thee by
poyson, entrap thee by some treacherous deuise, and neuer
leaue thee till he hath tane thy life by some indirect
meanes or other: for I assure thee, (and almost with
teares I speake it) there is not one so young, and so villanous
this day liuing. I speake but brotherly of him,
but should I anathomize him to thee, as hee is, I must
blush, and weepe, and thou must looke pale and
wonder

   Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: if hee
come to morrow, Ile giue him his payment: if euer hee
goe alone againe, Ile neuer wrastle for prize more: and
so God keepe your worship.
Enter.

Farewell good Charles. Now will I stirre this Gamester:
I hope I shall see an end of him; for my soule (yet
I know not why) hates nothing more then he: yet hee's
gentle, neuer school'd, and yet learned, full of noble
deuise, of all sorts enchantingly beloued, and indeed
so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my
owne people, who best know him, that I am altogether
misprised: but it shall not be so long, this wrastler shall
cleare all: nothing remaines, but that I kindle the boy
thither, which now Ile goe about.
Enter.


Scoena Secunda.

Enter Rosalind, and Cellia.

  Cel. I pray thee Rosalind, sweet my Coz, be merry

   Ros. Deere Cellia; I show more mirth then I am mistresse
of, and would you yet were merrier: vnlesse you
could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not
learne mee how to remember any extraordinary pleasure

   Cel. Heerein I see thou lou'st mee not with the full
waight that I loue thee; if my Vncle thy banished father
had banished thy Vncle the Duke my Father, so thou
hadst beene still with mee, I could haue taught my loue
to take thy father for mine; so wouldst thou, if the truth
of thy loue to me were so righteously temper'd, as mine
is to thee

   Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate,
to reioyce in yours

   Cel. You know my Father hath no childe, but I, nor
none is like to haue; and truely when he dies, thou shalt
be his heire; for what hee hath taken away from thy father
perforce, I will render thee againe in affection: by
mine honor I will, and when I breake that oath, let mee
turne monster: therefore my sweet Rose, my deare Rose,
be merry

   Ros. From henceforth I will Coz, and deuise sports:
let me see, what thinke you of falling in Loue?
  Cel. Marry I prethee doe, to make sport withall: but
loue no man in good earnest, nor no further in sport neyther,
then with safety of a pure blush, thou maist in honor
come off againe

   Ros. What shall be our sport then?
  Cel. Let vs sit and mocke the good houswife Fortune
from her wheele, that her gifts may henceforth bee
bestowed equally

   Ros. I would wee could doe so: for her benefits are
mightily misplaced, and the bountifull blinde woman
doth most mistake in her gifts to women

   Cel. 'Tis true, for those that she makes faire, she scarce
makes honest, & those that she makes honest, she makes
very illfauouredly

   Ros. Nay now thou goest from Fortunes office to Natures:
Fortune reignes in gifts of the world, not in the
lineaments of Nature.
Enter Clowne.

  Cel. No; when Nature hath made a faire creature,
may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? though nature
hath giuen vs wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune
sent in this foole to cut off the argument?
  Ros. Indeed there is fortune too hard for nature, when
fortune makes natures naturall, the cutter off of natures
witte

   Cel. Peraduenture this is not Fortunes work neither,
but Natures, who perceiueth our naturall wits too dull
to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this Naturall for
our whetstone: for alwaies the dulnesse of the foole, is
the whetstone of the wits. How now Witte, whether
wander you?
  Clow. Mistresse, you must come away to your father

   Cel. Were you made the messenger?
  Clo. No by mine honor, but I was bid to come for you
  Ros. Where learned you that oath foole?
  Clo. Of a certaine Knight, that swore by his Honour
they were good Pan-cakes, and swore by his Honor the
Mustard was naught: Now Ile stand to it, the Pancakes
were naught, and the Mustard was good, and yet was
not the Knight forsworne

   Cel. How proue you that in the great heape of your
knowledge?
  Ros. I marry, now vnmuzzle your wisedome

   Clo. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chinnes,
and sweare by your beards that I am a knaue

   Cel. By our beards (if we had them) thou art

   Clo. By my knauerie (if I had it) then I were: but if
you sweare by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no
more was this knight swearing by his Honor, for he neuer
had anie; or if he had, he had sworne it away, before
euer he saw those Pancakes, or that Mustard

   Cel. Prethee, who is't that thou means't?
  Clo. One that old Fredericke your Father loues

   Ros. My Fathers loue is enough to honor him enough;
speake no more of him, you'l be whipt for taxation one
of these daies

   Clo. The more pittie that fooles may not speak wisely,
what Wisemen do foolishly

   Cel. By my troth thou saiest true: For, since the little
wit that fooles haue was silenced, the little foolerie that
wise men haue makes a great shew; Heere comes Monsieur
the Beu.
Enter le Beau.

  Ros. With his mouth full of newes

   Cel. Which he will put on vs, as Pigeons feed their
young

   Ros. Then shal we be newes-cram'd

   Cel. All the better: we shalbe the more Marketable.
Boon-iour Monsieur le Beu, what's the newes?
  Le Beu. Faire Princesse,
you haue lost much good sport

   Cel. Sport: of what colour?
  Le Beu. What colour Madame? How shall I aunswer
you?
  Ros. As wit and fortune will

   Clo. Or as the destinies decrees

   Cel. Well said, that was laid on with a trowell

   Clo. Nay, if I keepe not my ranke

   Ros. Thou loosest thy old smell

   Le Beu. You amaze me Ladies: I would haue told
you of good wrastling, which you haue lost the sight of

   Ros. Yet tell vs the manner of the Wrastling

   Le Beu. I wil tell you the beginning: and if it please
your Ladiships, you may see the end, for the best is yet
to doe, and heere where you are, they are comming to
performe it

   Cel. Well, the beginning that is dead and buried

   Le Beu. There comes an old man, and his three sons

   Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale

   Le Beu. Three proper yong men, of excellent growth
and presence

   Ros. With bils on their neckes: Be it knowne vnto
all men by these presents

   Le Beu. The eldest of the three, wrastled with Charles
the Dukes Wrastler, which Charles in a moment threw
him, and broke three of his ribbes, that there is little
hope of life in him: So he seru'd the second, and so the
third: yonder they lie, the poore old man their Father,
making such pittiful dole ouer them, that all the beholders
take his part with weeping

   Ros. Alas

   Clo. But what is the sport Monsieur, that the Ladies
haue lost?
  Le Beu. Why this that I speake of

   Clo. Thus men may grow wiser euery day. It is the
first time that euer I heard breaking of ribbes was sport
for Ladies

   Cel. Or I, I promise thee

   Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken
Musicke in his sides? Is there yet another doates vpon
rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrastling Cosin?
  Le Beu. You must if you stay heere, for heere is the
place appointed for the wrastling, and they are ready to
performe it

   Cel. Yonder sure they are comming. Let vs now stay
and see it.

Flourish. Enter Duke, Lords, Orlando, Charles, and Attendants.

  Duke. Come on, since the youth will not be intreated
His owne perill on his forwardnesse

   Ros. Is yonder the man?
  Le Beu. Euen he, Madam

   Cel. Alas, he is too yong: yet he looks successefully
  Du. How now daughter, and Cousin:
Are you crept hither to see the wrastling?
  Ros. I my Liege, so please you giue vs leaue

   Du. You wil take little delight in it, I can tell you
there is such oddes in the man: In pitie of the challengers
youth, I would faine disswade him, but he will not
bee entreated. Speake to him Ladies, see if you can
mooue him

   Cel. Call him hether good Monsieuer Le Beu

   Duke. Do so: Ile not be by

   Le Beu. Monsieur the Challenger, the Princesse cals
for you

   Orl. I attend them with all respect and dutie

   Ros. Young man, haue you challeng'd Charles the
Wrastler?
  Orl. No faire Princesse: he is the generall challenger,
I come but in as others do, to try with him the strength
of my youth

   Cel. Yong Gentleman, your spirits are too bold for
your yeares: you haue seene cruell proofe of this mans
strength, if you saw your selfe with your eies, or knew
your selfe with your iudgment, the feare of your aduenture
would counsel you to a more equall enterprise. We
pray you for your owne sake to embrace your own safetie,
and giue ouer this attempt

   Ros. Do yong Sir, your reputation shall not therefore
be misprised: we wil make it our suite to the Duke, that
the wrastling might not go forward

   Orl. I beseech you, punish mee not with your harde
thoughts, wherein I confesse me much guiltie to denie
so faire and excellent Ladies anie thing. But let your
faire eies, and gentle wishes go with mee to my triall;
wherein if I bee foil'd, there is but one sham'd that was
neuer gracious: if kil'd, but one dead that is willing to
be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I haue none to
lament me: the world no iniurie, for in it I haue nothing:
onely in the world I fil vp a place, which may bee better
supplied, when I haue made it emptie

   Ros. The little strength that I haue, I would it were
with you

   Cel. And mine to eeke out hers

   Ros. Fare you well: praie heauen I be deceiu'd in you

   Cel. Your hearts desires be with you

   Char. Come, where is this yong gallant, that is so
desirous to lie with his mother earth?
  Orl. Readie Sir, but his will hath in it a more modest
working

   Duk. You shall trie but one fall

   Cha. No, I warrant your Grace you shall not entreat
him to a second, that haue so mightilie perswaded him
from a first

   Orl. You meane to mocke me after: you should not
haue mockt me before: but come your waies

   Ros. Now Hercules, be thy speede yong man

   Cel. I would I were inuisible, to catch the strong fellow
by the legge.

Wrastle.

  Ros. Oh excellent yong man

   Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eie, I can tell who
should downe.

Shout.

  Duk. No more, no more

   Orl. Yes I beseech your Grace, I am not yet well
breath'd

   Duk. How do'st thou Charles?
  Le Beu. He cannot speake my Lord

   Duk. Beare him awaie:
What is thy name yong man?
  Orl. Orlando my Liege, the yongest sonne of Sir Roland
de Boys

   Duk. I would thou hadst beene son to some man else,
The world esteem'd thy father honourable,
But I did finde him still mine enemie:
Thou should'st haue better pleas'd me with this deede,
Hadst thou descended from another house:
But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth,
I would thou had'st told me of another Father.

Exit Duke.

  Cel. Were I my Father (Coze) would I do this?
  Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rolands sonne,
His yongest sonne, and would not change that calling
To be adopted heire to Fredricke

   Ros. My Father lou'd Sir Roland as his soule,
And all the world was of my Fathers minde,
Had I before knowne this yong man his sonne,
I should haue giuen him teares vnto entreaties,
Ere he should thus haue ventur'd

   Cel. Gentle Cosen,
Let vs goe thanke him, and encourage him:
My Fathers rough and enuious disposition
Sticks me at heart: Sir, you haue well deseru'd,
If you doe keepe your promises in loue;
But iustly as you haue exceeded all promise,
Your Mistris shall be happie

   Ros. Gentleman,
Weare this for me: one out of suites with fortune
That could giue more, but that her hand lacks meanes.
Shall we goe Coze?
  Cel. I: fare you well faire Gentleman

   Orl. Can I not say, I thanke you? My better parts
Are all throwne downe, and that which here stands vp
Is but a quintine, a meere liuelesse blocke

   Ros. He cals vs back: my pride fell with my fortunes,
Ile aske him what he would: Did you call Sir?
Sir, you haue wrastled well, and ouerthrowne
More then your enemies

   Cel. Will you goe Coze?
  Ros. Haue with you: fare you well.
Enter.

  Orl. What passion hangs these waights vpo[n] my toong?
I cannot speake to her, yet she vrg'd conference.
Enter Le Beu.

O poore Orlando! thou art ouerthrowne
Or Charles, or something weaker masters thee

   Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsaile you
To leaue this place; Albeit you haue deseru'd
High commendation, true applause, and loue;
Yet such is now the Dukes condition,
That he misconsters all that you haue done:
The Duke is humorous, what he is indeede
More suites you to conceiue, then I to speake of

   Orl. I thanke you Sir; and pray you tell me this,
Which of the two was daughter of the Duke,
That here was at the Wrastling?
  Le Beu. Neither his daughter, if we iudge by manners,
But yet indeede the taller is his daughter,
The other is daughter to the banish'd Duke,
And here detain'd by her vsurping Vncle
To keepe his daughter companie, whose loues
Are deerer then the naturall bond of Sisters:
But I can tell you, that of late this Duke
Hath tane displeasure 'gainst his gentle Neece,
Grounded vpon no other argument,
But that the people praise her for her vertues,
And pittie her, for her good Fathers sake;
And on my life his malice 'gainst the Lady
Will sodainly breake forth: Sir, fare you well,
Hereafter in a better world then this,
I shall desire more loue and knowledge of you

   Orl. I rest much bounden to you: fare you well.
Thus must I from the smoake into the smother,
From tyrant Duke, vnto a tyrant Brother.
But heauenly Rosaline.

Exit


Scena Tertius.

Enter Celia and Rosaline.

  Cel. Why Cosen, why Rosaline: Cupid haue mercie,
Not a word?
  Ros. Not one to throw at a dog

   Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away
vpon curs, throw some of them at me; come lame mee
with reasons

   Ros. Then there were two Cosens laid vp, when the
one should be lam'd with reasons, and the other mad
without any

   Cel. But is all this for your Father?
  Ros. No, some of it is for my childes Father: Oh
how full of briers is this working day world

   Cel. They are but burs, Cosen, throwne vpon thee
in holiday foolerie, if we walke not in the trodden paths
our very petty-coates will catch them

   Ros. I could shake them off my coate, these burs are
in my heart

   Cel. Hem them away

   Ros. I would try if I could cry hem, and haue him

   Cel. Come, come, wrastle with thy affections

   Ros. O they take the part of a better wrastler then
my selfe

   Cel. O, a good wish vpon you: you will trie in time
in dispight of a fall: but turning these iests out of seruice,
let vs talke in good earnest: Is it possible on such a sodaine,
you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir
Roulands yongest sonne?
  Ros. The Duke my Father lou'd his Father deerelie

   Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should loue his
Sonne deerelie? By this kinde of chase, I should hate
him, for my father hated his father deerely; yet I hate
not Orlando

   Ros. No faith, hate him not for my sake

   Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserue well?
Enter Duke with Lords.

  Ros. Let me loue him for that, and do you loue him
Because I doe. Looke, here comes the Duke

   Cel. With his eies full of anger

   Duk. Mistris, dispatch you with your safest haste,
And get you from our Court

   Ros. Me Vncle

   Duk. You Cosen,
Within these ten daies if that thou beest found
So neere our publike Court as twentie miles,
Thou diest for it

   Ros. I doe beseech your Grace
Let me the knowledge of my fault beare with me:
If with my selfe I hold intelligence,
Or haue acquaintance with mine owne desires,
If that I doe not dreame, or be not franticke,
(As I doe trust I am not) then deere Vncle,
Neuer so much as in a thought vnborne,
Did I offend your highnesse

   Duk. Thus doe all Traitors,
If their purgation did consist in words,
They are as innocent as grace it selfe;
Let is suffice thee that I trust thee not

   Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a Traitor;
Tell me whereon the likelihoods depends?
  Duk. Thou art thy Fathers daughter, there's enough

   Ros. So was I when your highnes took his Dukdome,
So was I when your highnesse banisht him;
Treason is not inherited my Lord,
Or if we did deriue it from our friends,
What's that to me, my Father was no Traitor,
Then good my Leige, mistake me not so much,
To thinke my pouertie is treacherous

   Cel. Deere Soueraigne heare me speake

   Duk. I Celia, we staid her for your sake,
Else had she with her Father rang'd along

   Cel. I did not then intreat to haue her stay,
It was your pleasure, and your owne remorse,
I was too yong that time to value her,
But now I know her: if she be a Traitor,
Why so am I: we still haue slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn'd, plaid, eate together,
And wheresoere we went, like Iunos Swans,
Still we went coupled and inseperable

   Duk. She is too subtile for thee, and her smoothnes;
Her verie silence, and her patience,
Speake to the people, and they pittie her:
Thou art a foole, she robs thee of thy name,
And thou wilt show more bright, & seem more vertuous
When she is gone: then open not thy lips
Firme, and irreuocable is my doombe,
Which I haue past vpon her, she is banish'd

   Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me my Leige,
I cannot liue out of her companie

   Duk. You are a foole: you Neice prouide your selfe,
If you out-stay the time, vpon mine honor,
And in the greatnesse of my word you die.

Exit Duke, &c.

  Cel. O my poore Rosaline, whether wilt thou goe?
Wilt thou change Fathers? I will giue thee mine:
I charge thee be not thou more grieu'd then I am

   Ros. I haue more cause

   Cel. Thou hast not Cosen,
Prethee be cheerefull; know'st thou not the Duke
Hath banish'd me his daughter?
  Ros. That he hath not

   Cel. No, hath not? Rosaline lacks then the loue
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one,
Shall we be sundred? shall we part sweete girle?
No, let my Father seeke another heire:
Therefore deuise with me how we may flie
Whether to goe, and what to beare with vs,
And doe not seeke to take your change vpon you,
To beare your griefes your selfe, and leaue me out:
For by this heauen, now at our sorrowes pale;
Say what thou canst, Ile goe along with thee

   Ros. Why, whether shall we goe?
  Cel. To seeke my Vncle in the Forrest of Arden

   Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to vs,
(Maides as we are) to trauell forth so farre?
Beautie prouoketh theeues sooner then gold

   Cel. Ile put my selfe in poore and meane attire,
And with a kinde of vmber smirch my face,
The like doe you, so shall we passe along,
And neuer stir assailants

   Ros. Were it not better,
Because that I am more then common tall,
That I did suite me all points like a man,
A gallant curtelax vpon my thigh,
A bore-speare in my hand, and in my heart
Lye there what hidden womans feare there will,
Weele haue a swashing and a marshall outside,
As manie other mannish cowards haue,
That doe outface it with their semblances

   Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a man?
  Ros. Ile haue no worse a name then Ioues owne Page,
And therefore looke you call me Ganimed.
But what will you be call'd?
  Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state:
No longer Celia, but Aliena

   Ros. But Cosen, what if we assaid to steale
The clownish Foole out of your Fathers Court:
Would he not be a comfort to our trauaile?
  Cel. Heele goe along ore the wide world with me,
Leaue me alone to woe him; Let's away
And get our Iewels and our wealth together,
Deuise the fittest time, and safest way
To hide vs from pursuite that will be made
After my flight: now goe in we content
To libertie, and not to banishment.

Exeunt.


Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Duke Senior: Amyens, and two or three Lords like
Forresters.

  Duk.Sen. Now my Coe-mates, and brothers in exile:
Hath not old custome made this life more sweete
Then that of painted pompe? Are not these woods
More free from perill then the enuious Court?
Heere feele we not the penaltie of Adam,
The seasons difference, as the Icie phange
And churlish chiding of the winters winde,
Which when it bites and blowes vpon my body
Euen till I shrinke with cold, I smile, and say
This is no flattery: these are counsellors
That feelingly perswade me what I am:
Sweet are the vses of aduersitie
Which like the toad, ougly and venemous,
Weares yet a precious Iewell in his head:
And this our life exempt from publike haunt,
Findes tongues in trees, bookes in the running brookes,
Sermons in stones, and good in euery thing

   Amien. I would not change it, happy is your Grace
That can translate the stubbornnesse of fortune
Into so quiet and so sweet a stile

   Du.Sen. Come, shall we goe and kill vs venison?
And yet it irkes me the poore dapled fooles
Being natiue Burgers of this desert City,
Should in their owne confines with forked heads
Haue their round hanches goard

   1.Lord. Indeed my Lord
The melancholy Iaques grieues at that,
And in that kinde sweares you doe more vsurpe
Then doth your brother that hath banish'd you:
To day my Lord of Amiens, and my selfe,
Did steale behinde him as he lay along
Vnder an oake, whose anticke roote peepes out
Vpon the brooke that brawles along this wood,
To the which place a poore sequestred Stag
That from the Hunters aime had tane a hurt,
Did come to languish; and indeed my Lord
The wretched annimall heau'd forth such groanes
That their discharge did stretch his leatherne coat
Almost to bursting, and the big round teares
Cours'd one another downe his innocent nose
In pitteous chase: and thus the hairie foole,
Much marked of the melancholie Iaques,
Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brooke,
Augmenting it with teares

   Du.Sen. But what said Iaques?
Did he not moralize this spectacle?
  1.Lord. O yes, into a thousand similies.
First, for his weeping into the needlesse streame;
Poore Deere quoth he, thou mak'st a testament
As worldlings doe, giuing thy sum of more
To that which had too much: then being there alone,
Left and abandoned of his veluet friend;
'Tis right quoth he, thus miserie doth part
The Fluxe of companie: anon a carelesse Heard
Full of the pasture, iumps along by him
And neuer staies to greet him: I quoth Iaques,
Sweepe on you fat and greazie Citizens,
'Tis iust the fashion; wherefore doe you looke
Vpon that poore and broken bankrupt there?
Thus most inuectiuely he pierceth through
The body of Countrie, Citie, Court,
Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we
Are meere vsurpers, tyrants, and whats worse
To fright the Annimals, and to kill them vp
In their assign'd and natiue dwelling place

   D.Sen. And did you leaue him in this contemplation?
  2.Lord. We did my Lord, weeping and commenting
Vpon the sobbing Deere

   Du.Sen. Show me the place,
I loue to cope him in these sullen fits,
For then he's full of matter

   1.Lor. Ile bring you to him strait.

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.

Enter Duke, with Lords.

  Duk. Can it be possible that no man saw them?
It cannot be, some villaines of my Court
Are of consent and sufferance in this

   1.Lo. I cannot heare of any that did see her,
The Ladies her attendants of her chamber
Saw her a bed, and in the morning early,
They found the bed vntreasur'd of their Mistris

   2.Lor. My Lord, the roynish Clown, at whom so oft,
Your Grace was wont to laugh is also missing,
Hisperia the Princesse Gentlewoman
Confesses that she secretly ore-heard
Your daughter and her Cosen much commend
The parts and graces of the Wrastler
That did but lately foile the synowie Charles,
And she beleeues where euer they are gone
That youth is surely in their companie

   Duk. Send to his brother, fetch that gallant hither,
If he be absent, bring his Brother to me,
Ile make him finde him: do this sodainly;
And let not search and inquisition quaile,
To bring againe these foolish runawaies.

Exeunt.


Scena Tertia.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

  Orl. Who's there?
  Ad. What my yong Master, oh my gentle master,
Oh my sweet master, O you memorie
Of old Sir Rowland; why, what make you here?
Why are you vertuous? Why do people loue you?
And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant?
Why would you be so fond to ouercome
The bonnie priser of the humorous Duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not Master, to seeme kinde of men,
Their graces serue them but as enemies,
No more doe yours: your vertues gentle Master
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you:
Oh what a world is this, when what is comely
Enuenoms him that beares it?
Why, what's the matter?
  Ad. O vnhappie youth,
Come not within these doores: within this roofe
The enemie of all your graces liues
Your brother, no, no brother, yet the sonne
(Yet not the son, I will not call him son)
Of him I was about to call his Father,
Hath heard your praises, and this night he meanes,
To burne the lodging where you vse to lye,
And you within it: if he faile of that
He will haue other meanes to cut you off;
I ouerheard him: and his practises:
This is no place, this house is but a butcherie;
Abhorre it, feare it, doe not enter it

   Ad. Why whether Adam would'st thou haue me go?
  Ad. No matter whether, so you come not here

   Orl. What, would'st thou haue me go & beg my food,
Or with a base and boistrous Sword enforce
A theeuish liuing on the common rode?
This I must do, or know not what to do:
Yet this I will not do, do how I can,
I rather will subiect me to the malice
Of a diuerted blood, and bloudie brother

   Ad. But do not so: I haue fiue hundred Crownes,
The thriftie hire I saued vnder your Father,
Which I did store to be my foster Nurse,
When seruice should in my old limbs lie lame,
And vnregarded age in corners throwne,
Take that, and he that doth the Rauens feede,
Yea prouidently caters for the Sparrow,
Be comfort to my age: here is the gold,
All this I giue you, let me be your seruant,
Though I looke old, yet I am strong and lustie;
For in my youth I neuer did apply
Hot, and rebellious liquors in my bloud,
Nor did not with vnbashfull forehead woe,
The meanes of weaknesse and debilitie,
Therefore my age is as a lustie winter,
Frostie, but kindely; let me goe with you,
Ile doe the seruice of a yonger man
In all your businesse and necessities

   Orl. Oh good old man, how well in thee appeares
The constant seruice of the antique world,
When seruice sweate for dutie, not for meede:
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweate, but for promotion,
And hauing that do choake their seruice vp,
Euen with the hauing, it is not so with thee:
But poore old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossome yeelde,
In lieu of all thy paines and husbandrie,
But come thy waies, weele goe along together,
And ere we haue thy youthfull wages spent,
Weele light vpon some setled low content

   Ad. Master goe on, and I will follow thee
To the last gaspe with truth and loyaltie,
From seauentie yeeres, till now almost fourescore
Here liued I, but now liue here no more
At seauenteene yeeres, many their fortunes seeke
But at fourescore, it is too late a weeke,
Yet fortune cannot recompence me better
Then to die well, and not my Masters debter.

Exeunt.


Scena Quarta.

Enter Rosaline for Ganimed, Celia for Aliena, and Clowne, alias
Touchstone.

  Ros. O Iupiter, how merry are my spirits?
  Clo. I care not for my spirits, if my legges were not
wearie

   Ros. I could finde in my heart to disgrace my mans
apparell, and to cry like a woman: but I must comfort
the weaker vessell, as doublet and hose ought to show it
selfe coragious to petty-coate; therefore courage, good
Aliena

   Cel. I pray you beare with me, I cannot goe no further

   Clo. For my part, I had rather beare with you, then
beare you: yet I should beare no crosse if I did beare
you, for I thinke you haue no money in your purse

   Ros. Well, this is the Forrest of Arden

   Clo. I, now am I in Arden, the more foole I, when I
was at home I was in a better place, but Trauellers must
be content.
Enter Corin and Siluius.

  Ros. I, be so good Touchstone: Look you, who comes
here, a yong man and an old in solemne talke

   Cor. That is the way to make her scorne you still

   Sil. Oh Corin, that thou knew'st how I do loue her

   Cor. I partly guesse: for I haue lou'd ere now

   Sil. No Corin, being old, thou canst not guesse,
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a louer
As euer sigh'd vpon a midnight pillow:
But if thy loue were euer like to mine,
As sure I thinke did neuer man loue so:
How many actions most ridiculous,
Hast thou beene drawne to by thy fantasie?
  Cor. Into a thousand that I haue forgotten

   Sil. Oh thou didst then neuer loue so hartily,
If thou remembrest not the slightest folly,
That euer loue did make thee run into,
Thou hast not lou'd.
Or if thou hast not sat as I doe now,
Wearing thy hearer in thy Mistris praise,
Thou hast not lou'd.
Or if thou hast not broke from companie,
Abruptly as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not lou'd.
O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe.
Enter.

  Ros. Alas poore Shepheard searching of they would,
I haue by hard aduenture found mine owne

   Clo. And I mine: I remember when I was in loue, I
broke my sword vpon a stone, and bid him take that for
comming a night to Iane Smile, and I remember the kissing
of her batler, and the Cowes dugs that her prettie
chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember the wooing
of a peascod instead of her, from whom I tooke two
cods, and giuing her them againe, said with weeping
teares, weare these for my sake: wee that are true Louers,
runne into strange capers; but as all is mortall in
nature, so is all nature in loue, mortall in folly

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

   Clo. Nay, I shall nere be ware of mine owne wit, till
I breake my shins against it

   Ros. Ioue, Ioue, this Shepherds passion,
Is much vpon my fashion

   Clo. And mine, but it growes something stale with
mee

   Cel. I pray you, one of you question yon'd man,
If he for gold will giue vs any foode,
I faint almost to death

   Clo. Holla; you Clowne

   Ros. Peace foole, he's not thy kinsman

   Cor. Who cals?
  Clo. Your betters Sir

   Cor. Else are they very wretched

   Ros. Peace I say; good euen to your friend

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

   Ros. I prethee Shepheard, if that loue or gold
Can in this desert place buy entertainment,
Bring vs where we may rest our selues, and feed:
Here's a yong maid with trauaile much oppressed,
And faints for succour

   Cor. Faire Sir, I pittie her,
And wish for her sake more then for mine owne,
My fortunes were more able to releeue her:
But I am shepheard to another man,
And do not sheere the Fleeces that I graze:
My master is of churlish disposition,
And little wreakes to finde the way to heauen
By doing deeds of hospitalitie.
Besides his Coate, his Flockes, and bounds of feede
Are now on sale, and at our sheep-coat 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

   Ros. What is he that shall buy his flocke and pasture?
  Cor. That yong Swaine that you saw heere but erewhile,
That little cares for buying any thing

   Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honestie,
Buy thou the Cottage, pasture, and the flocke,
And thou shalt haue to pay for it of vs

   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 vpon report,
The soile, the profit, and this kinde of life,
I will your very faithfull Feeder be,
And buy it with your Gold right sodainly.

Exeunt.


Scena Quinta.

Enter, Amyens, Iaques, & others.

Song.

Vnder the greene wood tree,
who loues to lye with mee,
And turne his merrie Note,
vnto the sweet Birds throte:
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Heere shall he see no enemie,
But Winter and rough Weather

   Iaq. More, more, I pre'thee more

   Amy. It will make you melancholly Monsieur Iaques
  Iaq. I thanke it: More, I prethee more,
I can sucke melancholly out of a song,
As a Weazel suckes egges: More, I pre'thee more

   Amy. My voice is ragged, I know I cannot please
you

   Iaq. I do not desire you to please me,
I do desire you to sing:
Come, more, another stanzo: Cal you 'em stanzo's?
  Amy. What you wil Monsieur Iaques

   Iaq. Nay, I care not for their names, they owe mee
nothing. Wil you sing?
  Amy. More at your request, then to please my selfe

   Iaq. Well then, if euer I thanke any man, Ile thanke
you: but that they cal complement is like th' encounter
of two dog-Apes. And when a man thankes me hartily,
me thinkes I haue giuen him a penie, and he renders me
the beggerly thankes. Come sing; and you that wil not
hold your tongues

   Amy. Wel, Ile end the song. Sirs, couer the while,
the Duke wil drinke vnder this tree; he hath bin all this
day to looke you

   Iaq. And I haue bin all this day to auoid him:
He is too disputeable for my companie:
I thinke of as many matters as he, but I giue
Heauen thankes, and make no boast of them.
Come, warble, come.

Song. Altogether heere.

Who doth ambition shunne,
and loues to liue i'th Sunne:
Seeking the food he eates,
and pleas'd with what he gets:
Come hither, come hither, come hither,
Heere shall he see. &c

   Iaq. Ile giue you a verse to this note,
That I made yesterday in despight of my Inuention

   Amy. And Ile sing it

   Amy. Thus it goes.
If it do come to passe, that any man turne Asse:
Leauing his wealth and ease,
A stubborne will to please,
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame:
Heere shall he see, grosse fooles as he,
And if he will come to me

   Amy. What's that Ducdame?
  Iaq. 'Tis a Greeke inuocation, to call fools into a circle.
Ile go sleepe if I can: if I cannot, Ile raile against all
the first borne of Egypt

   Amy. And Ile go seeke the Duke,
His banket is prepar'd.

Exeunt.

Scena Sexta.

Enter Orlando, & Adam

   Adam. Deere Master, I can go no further:
O I die for food. Heere lie I downe,
And measure out my graue. Farwel kinde master

   Orl. Why how now Adam? No greater heart in thee:
Liue a little, comfort a little, cheere thy selfe a little.
If this vncouth Forrest yeeld any thing sauage,
I wil either be food for it, or bring it for foode to thee:
Thy conceite is neerer death, then thy powers.
For my sake be comfortable, hold death a while
At the armes end: I wil heere be with thee presently,
And if I bring thee not something to eate,
I wil giue thee leaue to die: but if thou diest
Before I come, thou art a mocker of my labor.
Wel said, thou look'st cheerely,
And Ile be with thee quickly: yet thou liest
In the bleake aire. Come, I wil beare thee
To some shelter, and thou shalt not die
For lacke of a dinner,
If there liue any thing in this Desert.
Cheerely good Adam.

Exeunt.

Scena Septima.

Enter Duke Sen. & Lord, like Out-lawes.

  Du.Sen. I thinke he be transform'd into a beast,
For I can no where finde him, like a man

   1.Lord. My Lord, he is but euen now gone hence,
Heere was he merry, hearing of a Song

   Du.Sen. If he compact of iarres, grow Musicall,
We shall haue shortly discord in the Spheares:
Go seeke him, tell him I would speake with him.
Enter Iaques.

  1.Lord. He saues my labor by his owne approach

   Du.Sen. Why how now Monsieur, what a life is this
That your poore friends must woe your companie,
What, you looke merrily

   Iaq. A Foole, a foole: I met a foole i'th Forrest,
A motley Foole (a miserable world:)
As I do liue by foode, I met a foole,
Who laid him downe, and bask'd him in the Sun,
And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good termes,
In good set termes, and yet a motley foole.
Good morrow foole (quoth I:) no Sir, quoth he,
Call me not foole, till heauen hath sent me fortune,
And then he drew a diall from his poake,
And looking on it, with lacke-lustre eye,
Sayes, very wisely, it is ten a clocke:
Thus we may see (quoth he) how the world wagges:
'Tis but an houre agoe, since it was nine,
And after one houre more, 'twill be eleuen,
And so from houre to houre, we ripe, and ripe,
And then from houre to houre, we rot, and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale. When I did heare
The motley Foole, thus morall on the time,
My Lungs began to crow like Chanticleere,
That Fooles should be so deepe contemplatiue:
And I did laugh, sans intermission
An houre by his diall. Oh noble foole,
A worthy foole: Motley's the onely weare

   Du.Sen. What foole is this?
  Iaq. O worthie Foole: One that hath bin a Courtier
And sayes, if Ladies be but yong, and faire,
They haue the gift to know it: and in his braine,
Which is as drie as the remainder bisket
After a voyage: He hath strange places cram'd
With obseruation, the which he vents
In mangled formes. O that I were a foole,
I am ambitious for a motley coat

   Du.Sen. Thou shalt haue one

   Iaq. It is my onely suite,
Prouided that you weed your better iudgements
Of all opinion that growes ranke in them,
That I am wise. I must haue liberty
Withall, as large a Charter as the winde,
To blow on whom I please, for so fooles haue:
And they that are most gauled with my folly,
They most must laugh: And why sir must they so?
The why is plaine, as way to Parish Church:
Hee, that a Foole doth very wisely hit,
Doth very foolishly, although he smart
Seeme senselesse of the bob. If not,
The Wise-mans folly is anathomiz'd
Euen by the squandring glances of the foole.
Inuest me in my motley: Giue me leaue
To speake my minde, and I will through and through
Cleanse the foule bodie of th' infected world,
If they will patiently receiue my medicine

   Du.Sen. Fie on thee. I can tell what thou wouldst do

   Iaq. What, for a Counter, would I do, but good?
  Du.Sen. Most mischeeuous foule sin, in chiding sin:
For thou thy selfe hast bene a Libertine,
As sensuall as the brutish sting it selfe,
And all th' imbossed sores, and headed euils,
That thou with license of free foot hast caught,
Would'st thou disgorge into the generall world

   Iaq. Why who cries out on pride,
That can therein taxe any priuate party:
Doth it not flow as hugely as the Sea,
Till that the wearie verie meanes do ebbe.
What woman in the Citie do I name,
When that I say the City woman beares
The cost of Princes on vnworthy shoulders?
Who can come in, and say that I meane her,
When such a one as shee, such is her neighbor?
Or what is he of basest function,
That sayes his brauerie is not on my cost,
Thinking that I meane him, but therein suites
His folly to the mettle of my speech,
There then, how then, what then, let me see wherein
My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right,
Then he hath wrong'd himselfe: if he be free,
Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies
Vnclaim'd of any man. But who come here?
Enter Orlando.

  Orl. Forbeare, and eate no more

   Iaq. Why I haue eate none yet

   Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be seru'd

   Iaq. Of what kinde should this Cocke come of?
  Du.Sen. Art thou thus bolden'd man by thy distres?
Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
That in ciuility thou seem'st so emptie?
  Orl. You touch'd my veine at first, the thorny point
Of bare distresse, hath tane from me the shew
Of smooth ciuility: yet am I in-land bred,
And know some nourture: But forbeare, I say,
He dies that touches any of this fruite,
Till I, and my affaires are answered