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  • 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)

    Actus Secundus. Scœna Prima.
    605Enter 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
    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. Exeunt.
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