Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare
As You Like It
SCENE V. another part of the Forest.
Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and others
What’s that ‘ducdame’?
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
SCENE VI. Another part of the Forest.
Enter ORLANDO and ADAM
Adam. Dear master, I can go no farther. O,
I die for food! Here 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 any-
thing savage, I will either be food for it or bring
it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death
than thy powers. For my sake be comfortable;
hold death awhile at the arm’s end: I will here
be with thee presently; and if I bring thee not
something to eat, I will give thee leave to die: but
if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of
my labour. Well said! thou lookest 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. Another part of the Forest.
A Table set.
Enter DUKE Senior, AMIENS, and others.
Duke S. I think he be transform’d into a
For I can no where 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 musi-
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 ap-
Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a
life is this,
That your poor friends must woo your com
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 rail’d on Lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms and yet a motley fool.
‘Good morrow, fool,’ 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 we may see,’ quoth he, ‘how the world wags:
‘Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after one hour more ’twill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
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.
(On 2/28/15 – Join me in the continuation of Shakespeare’s
“As You Like It”