A worthy foot—motley’s the only wear.

DUKE SENIOR What fool is this? 35

JAQUES

O worthy fool!—One that hath been a courtier,

And says ‘If ladies be but young and fair

They have the gift to know it.’ And in his brain,

Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit

After a voyage, he hath strange places crammed

With observation, the which he vents

In mangled forms. O that I were a fool,

I am ambitious for a motley coat.

DUKE SENIOR

Thou shalt have one.

JAQUES It is my only suit,

Provided that you weed your better judgements

Of all opinion that grows rank in them

That I am wise. I must have liberty

Withal, as large a charter as the wind,

To blow on whom I please, for so fools have;

And they that are most galled with my folly,

They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so?

The why is plain as way to parish church:

He that a fool doth very wisely hit

Doth very foolishly, although he smart,

Seem aught but senseless of the bob. If not,

The wise man’s folly is anatomized

Even by the squandering glances of the fool.

Invest me in my motley. Give me leave

To speak my mind, and I will through and through

Cleanse the foul body of th’infected world,

If they will patiently receive my medicine.

DUKE SENIOR

Fie on thee, I can tell what thou wouldst do.

JAQUES

What, for a counter, would I do but good?

DUKE SENIOR

Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin;

For thou thyself hast been a libertine,

As sensual as the brutish sting itself,

And all th’embossèd sores and headed evils

That thou with licence of free foot hast caught

Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.

JAQUES Why, who cries out on pride

That can therein tax any private party?

Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,

Till that the weary very means do ebb?

What woman in the city do I name

When that I say the city-woman bears

The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?

Who can come in and say that I mean her

When such a one as she, such is her neighbour?

Or what is he of basest function,

That says his bravery is not on my cost,

Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits

His folly to the mettle of my speech?

There then, how then, what then, let me see wherein

My tongue hath wronged him. If it do him right,

Then he hath wronged himself. If he be free,

Why then my taxing like a wild goose flies,

Unclaimed of any man. But who comes here?

Enter Orlando, with sword drawn

ORLANDO

Forbear, and eat no more!

JAQUES Why, I have eat none yet.

ORLANDO

Nor shalt not till necessity be served.

JAQUES Of what kind should this cock come of?

DUKE SENIOR

Art thou thus boldened, man, by thy distress?

Or else a rude despiser of good manners,

That in civility thou seem’st so empty?

ORLANDO

You touched my vein at first. The thorny point

Of bare distress hath ta’en from me the show

Of smooth civility. Yet am I inland bred,

And know some nurture. But forbear, I say.

He dies that touches any of this fruit

Till I and my affairs are answered.

JAQUES An you will not be answered with reason, I must die.

DUKE SENIOR

What would you have? Your gentleness shall force

More than your force move us to gentleness.

ORLANDO

I almost die for food; and let me have it.

DUKE SENIOR

Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.

ORLANDO

Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you.

I thought that all things had been savage here,

And therefore put I on the countenance

Of stern commandment. But whate‘er you are

That in this desert inaccessible,

Under the shade of melancholy boughs,

Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time,

If ever you have looked on better days,

If ever been where bells have knolled to church,

If ever sat at any good man’s feast,

If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear,

And know what ’tis to pity, and be pitied,

Let gentleness my strong enforcement be.

In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword.

DUKE SENIOR

True is it that we have seen better days,

And have with holy bell been knolled to church,

And sat at good men’s feasts, and wiped our eyes

Of drops that sacred pity hath engendered.

And therefore sit you down in gentleness,

And take upon command what help we have

That to your wanting may be ministered.

ORLANDO

Then but forbear your food a little while

Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn

And give it food. There is an old poor man

Who after me hath many a weary step

Limped in pure love. Till he be first sufficed,

Oppressed with two weak evils, age and hunger,

I will not touch a bit.

DUKE SENIOR

Go find him out,

And we will nothing waste till you return.

ORLANDO

I thank ye; and be blessed for your good comfortl Exit

DUKE SENIOR

Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy.