Archives For Writer


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

As You Like It

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

ACT II

SCENE IV. The Forest of Arden.

Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy

wound,

I have by hard adventure found mine own.

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 a-night to Jane Smile;

and I remember the kissing of her batlet and

the cow’s dugs that her pretty chopt 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 speakest wiser than thou art ware

of.

Touch. Nay, I shall ne’er be ware of mine

own wit till I break my shins against it.

Ros. Jove, Jove! this shepherd’s passion

Is much upon my fashion.

Touch. And mine; but it grows something

stale with me.

Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond man

If he for gold will give us any food:

I faint almost to death.

Touch. Holla, you clown!

Ros. Peace, fool: he’s not thy kinsman.

Cor. Who calls?

Touch. Your betters, sir.

Cor. Else are they very wretched.

Ros.                                        Peace, I say.

Good even to you, friend.

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

Ros. I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold

Can in this desert place buy entertainment,

Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed:

Here’s a young maid with travel much op-

press’d

And faints for succor.

Cor. Fair sir, I pity her

And wish, for her sake more than for mine own,

My fortunes were more able to relieve her;

But I am shepherd to another man

 

And do not shear the fleeces that I graze:

My master is of churlish disposition

And little recks to find the way to heaven

By doing deeds of hospitality:

Besides, his cote, his flocks and bounds of feed

Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote 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 flock and

pasture?

Cor. That young swain that you saw here

but erewhile,

That little cares for buying anything.

Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,

Buy thou the cottage, pasture and the flock,

And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.

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 upon report

The soil, the profit and this kind of life,

I will your very faithful feeder be

And buy it with your gold right suddenly.

Exeunt

(On 2/27/15 – Join me in the continuation of Shakespeare’s 

“As You Like It”


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

As You Like It

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

ACT II

SCENE IV. The Forest of Arden.

Enter ROSALIND. in boy’s clothes, CELIA

dressed like a shepherdess, and TOUCHSTONE.

Ros. O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits!

Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs

were not weary.

Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my

man’s apparel and to cry like a woman; but I

must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and

hose ought to show itself courageous to petti-

coat: therefore courage, good Aliena!

Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no

farther.

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 SILVIUS.

Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you

still.                                             [love her!

Sil. O Corin, that thou knew’st how I do

Cor. I partly guess; for I have loved ere now.

Sil. 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?

Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.

Sil. O, thou didst then ne’er love so heartily!

If thou remember’st not the slightest folly

That ever love did make thee run into,

Thou hast not loved:

Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,

Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress’ praise,

Thou hast not loved:

Or if thou hast not broke from company

Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,

Thou hast not loved. O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!

Exit SILVIUS

(On 2/26/15 – Join me in the continuation of Shakespeare’s 

“As You Like It”


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

As You Like It

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

ACT II

SCENE II. A room in the palace.

Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords and Attend-

ants.

O, what a world is this, when what is comely

Envenoms him that bears it!

Orl. Why, what’s the matter?

Adam. O unhappy youth!

Come not within these doors; within this roof

The enemy of all your graces lives:

Your brother–no, no brother; yet the son—

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

means

To burn the lodging where you use to lie

And you within it: if he fail of that,

He will have other means to cut you off.

I overheard him and his practices.

This is no place; this house is but a butchery:

Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.         [me go?

Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have

Adam. No matter whither, so you come not

here.

Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg

my food?

Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce

A thievish living on the common road?

This I must do, or know not what to do:

Yet this I will not do, do how I can;

I rather will subject me to the malice

Of a diverted blood and bloody brother.

Adam. But do not so. I have five hundred

crowns,

The thrifty hire I saved under your father,

Which I did store to be my foster-nurse

When service should in my old limbs lie lame

And unregarded age in corners thrown:

Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed,

Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,

Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;

And all this I give you. Let me be your servant:

Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty;

For in my youth I never did apply

Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood,

Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo

The means of weakness and debility;

Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,

Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you;

I’ll do the service of a younger man

In all your business and necessities.   [pears

Orl. O good old man, how well in thee ap—

The constant service of the antique world,

When service sweat for duty, not for meed!

Thou art not for the fashion of these times,

Where none will sweat but for promotion,

And having that, do choke their service up

Even with the having: it is not so with thee.

But, poor old man, thou prunest a rotten tree,

That cannot so much as a blossom yield

In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry:

But come thy ways; well go along together,

And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,

We’ll light upon some settled low content.

Adam.

Master, go on, and I will follow thee,

To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.—

From seventeen years till now almost fourscore

Here lived I, but now live here no more.

At seventeen years many their fortunes seek;

But at fourscore it is too late a week:

Yet fortune cannot recompense me better

Than to die well and not my master’s debtor.

Exeunt

(On 2/25/15 – Join me in the continuation of Shakespeare’s 

“As You Like It”


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

As You Like It

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

ACT II

SCENE II. A room in the palace.

Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords and Attend-

ants.

Duke F. Can it be possible that no man saw

them?

It cannot be: some villains of my court

Are of consent and sufferance in this.

Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her.

The ladies, her attendants of her chamber,

Saw her abed, and in the morning early

They found the bed untreasured of their mis-

tress.                                                [so oft

Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom

Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.

Hisperia, the princess’ gentlewoman,

Confesses that she secretly o’erheard

Your daughter and her cousin much commend

The parts and graces of the wrestler

That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles;

And she believes, wherever they are gone,

That youth is surely in their company.

Duke F. Send to his brother; fetch that gal-

lant hither;

If he be absent, bring his brother to me;

I’ll make him find him: do this suddenly,

And let not search and inquisition quail

To bring again these foolish runaways.

Exeunt

SCENE III. Before OLIVER’S house.

Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting

Orl. Who’s there?

Adam. What, my young master? O, my

gentle master!

O my sweet master! O you memory

Of old Sir Rowland! why, what make you here?

Why are you virtuous? why do people love you?

And wherefore are you gentle, strong and

valiant?

Why would you be so fond to overcome

The bonny priser of the humorous duke?

Your praise is come too swiftly home before

you.

Know you not, master, to some kind of men

Their graces serve them but as enemies?

No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master,

Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.

(On 2/24/15 – Join me in the continuation of Shakespeare’s 

“As You Like It”


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

As You Like It

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

ACT II. SCENE I.— The Forest of Arden.

Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and two or three Lords,

in the dress of foresters

Duke S. Now, my co-mates and brothers in

exile,

Hath not old custom made this life more sweet

Than that of painted pomp? Are not these

woods

More free from peril than the envious court?

Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,

The seasons’ difference, as the icy fang

And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind,

Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,

Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say

‘This is no flattery: these are counsellors

That feelingly persuade me what I am.’

Sweet are the uses of adversity,

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,

Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;

And this our life exempt from public haunt

Finds tongues in trees, books in the running

brooks,

Sermons in stones and good in everything.

I would not change it.

Ami. Happy is your grace,

That can translate the stubbornness of fortune

Into so quiet and so sweet a style.        [son?

Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us veni?

And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools,

Being native burghers of this desert city,

Should in their own confines with forked

heads

Have their round haunches gor’d.

Lord                                Indeed, my lord,

The melancholy Jaques grieves at that,

And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp

Than doth your brother that hath banish’d

you.

To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself

Did steal behind him as he lay along

Under an oak whose antique root peeps out

Upon the brook that brawls along this wood:

To the which place a poor sequester’d stag,

That from the hunter’s aim had ta’en a hurt,

Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord,

The wretched animal heaved forth such groans

That their discharge did stretch his leathern

coat

Almost to bursting, and the big round tears

Coursed one another down his innocent nose

In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool

Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,

Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook,

Augmenting it with tears.

Duke S. But what said Jaques?

Did he not moralize this spectacle?

Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes.

First, for his weeping into the needless stream;

‘Poor deer,’ quoth he, ‘thou makest a testament

As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more

To that which had too much:’ then, being there

alone,

Left and abandon’d of his velvet friends,

”Tis right:’ quoth he; ‘thus misery doth part

The flux of company:’ anon a careless herd,

Full of the pasture, jumps along by him

And never stays to greet him; ‘Ay’ quoth

Jaques,

‘Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens;

‘Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look

Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?’

Thus most invectively he pierceth through

The body of the country, city, court,

Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we

Are mere usurpers, tyrants and what’s worse,

To fright the animals and to kill them up

In their assign’d and native dwelling-place.

Duke S. And did you leave him in this con-

templation?                               [menting

Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and com

Upon the sobbing deer.

Duke S.                            Show me the place:

I love to cope him in these sullen fits,

For then he’s full of matter.

Lord I’ll bring you to him straight.

Exeunt

(On 2/23/15 – Join me in the continuation of Shakespeare’s 

“As You Like It”


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

As You Like It

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

SCENE III. A room in the palace.

Cel. O my poor Ros., whither wilt thou

go?

Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.
I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I

am.

Ros. I have more cause.

Cel. Thou hast not, cousin;

Pr’ythee, be cheerful: know’st thou not the

duke

Hath banish’d me, his daughter?

Ros.                              That he hath not.

Cel. No, hath not? Ros. lacks then the

love

Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one:

Shall we be sunder’d? shall we part, sweet girl?

No: let my father seek another heir.

Therefore devise with me how we may fly,

Whither to go and what to bear with us;

And do not seek to take your change upon you,

To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out;

For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,

Say what thou canst, I’ll go along with thee.

Ros. Why, whither shall we go?

Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden.

Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us,

Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!

Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

Cel. I’ll put myself in poor and mean attire

And with a kind of umber smirch my face;

The like do you: so shall we pass along

And never stir assailants.

Ros. Were it not better,

Because that I am more than common tall,

That I did suit me all points like a man?

A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,

A boar-spear in my hand; and–in my heart

Lie there what hidden woman’s fear there will–

We’ll have a swashing and a martial outside,

As many other mannish cowards have

That do outface it with their semblances.

Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a

man?                                      [own page;

ROS. I’ll have no worse a name than Jove’s

And therefore look you call me Ganymede.

But what will you be call’d?            [state

Cel. Something that hath a reference to my

No longer Cel., but Aliena.

Ros. But, cousin, what if we assay’d to steal

The clownish fool out of your father’s court?

Would he not be a comfort to our travel?

Cel. He’ll go along o’er the wide world with

me;

Leave me alone to woo him. Let’s away,

And get our jewels and our wealth together,

Devise the fittest time and safest way

To hide us from pursuit that will be made

After my flight. Now go we in content

To liberty and not to banishment. Exeunt

(On 2/21/15 – Join me in the continuation of Shakespeare’s 

“As You Like It”


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

As You Like It

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

SCENE III. A room in the palace.

 Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords.

Duke F. Mistress, dispatch you with your

safest haste

And get you from our court.

Ros.                                     Me, uncle?

Duke F.                                    You, cousin

Within these ten days if that thou be’st found

So near our public court as twenty miles,

Thou diest for it.

Ros. I do beseech your grace,             [me:

Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with

If with myself I hold intelligence

Or have acquaintance with mine own desires,

If that I do not dream or be not frantic,–

As I do trust I am not–then, dear uncle,

Never so much as in a thought unborn

Did I offend your highness.

Duke F. Thus do all traitors:

If their purgation did consist in words,

They are as innocent as grace itself:

Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not.

Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a

traitor:

Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.

Duke F. Thou art thy father’s daughter;

there’s enough.                          [dukedom;

Ros.   So was I when your highness took his

So was I when your highness banish’d him:

Treason is not inherited, my lord;

Or, if we did derive it from our friends,

What’s that to me? my father was no traitor:

Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much

To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.   [sake,

Duke F. Ay, Cel.; we stay’d her for your

Else had she with her father ranged along.

Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay;

It was your pleasure and your own remorse:

I was too young that time to value her;

But now I know her: if she be a traitor,

Why so am I; we still have slept together,

Rose at an instant, learn’d, play’d, eat together,

And wheresoever we went, like Juno’s swans,

Still we went coupled and inseparable.

Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her

smoothness,

Her very silence and her patience

Speak to the people, and they pity her.

Thou art a fool: she robs thee of thy name;

And thou wilt show more bright and seem more

virtuous

When she is gone. Then open not thy lips:

Firm and irrevocable is my doom

Which I have pass’d upon her; she is banish’d.

Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me,

my liege:

I cannot live out of her company.    [yourself:

Duke F. You are a fool. You, niece, provide

If you outstay the time, upon mine honour,

And in the greatness of my word, you die.

Exeunt DUKE F. and Lords

(On 2/21/15 – Join me in the continuation of Shakespeare’s 

“As You Like It”