Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: As You Like It (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: David Bevington
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-369-4

    Copyright David Bevington. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: David Bevington
    Peer Reviewed

    As You Like It (Folio 1, 1623)

    As you like it.
    Then that of painted pompe? Are not these woods
    610More 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
    615Euen 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,
    620Weares 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
    625That 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,
    630Should 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
    635Then 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,
    640To 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
    645Almost 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,
    650Augmenting 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;
    655Poore Deere quoth he, thou mak'st a testament
    As worldlings doe, giuing thy sum of more
    To that which had too must: then being there alone,
    Left and abandoned of his veluet friend;
    'Tis right quoth he, thus miserie doth part
    660The 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
    665Vpon 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
    670To 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.

    675Du.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.

    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,
    685The 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,
    690Hisperia the Princesse Centlewoman
    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,
    695And 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;
    700And let not search and inquisition quaile,
    To bring againe these foolish runawaies.

    Scena Tertia.

    Enter Orlando and Adam.

    Orl. Who's there?
    705Ad. 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?
    710Why 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,
    715No 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?
    720Ad. 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)
    725Of 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