_An open place in the Forest._
_A Voice._ Platoon! Properly at ease there, blank you! 'TN-SHUN!
DIS-MISS!
_Enter_ Amiens, Jaques _and others_.
_Amiens._ SONG.
It's a long way to Tipperary,
It's a long way to go;
It's a long way to Tipperary,
To the sweetest girl I know ... (_et-cetera._)
_Jaques._ More, more, I prithee, more.
_Amiens._ It will make you melancholy, Corporal Jaques.
_Jaques._ I want to be melancholy. Any man would be melancholy when his
officer's moustache falls off on parade.
_Amiens._ A white one too--a regular Landsturmer. And yet he's not an
_old_ man, Corporal.
_Jaques._ Ay, it's a melancholy business. Come, warble.
_Amiens._ SONG.
Who doth all comfort shun
And hates the blooming sun,
Eating what he can get
And sleeping in the wet,
Come hither, come hither, come hither;
Here shall he learn
To right-about-turn
In winter and rough weather.
_Jaques_ (_getting up_). A melancholy business. Amiens, my lad, I feel
the old weakness coming over me.
_Amiens_ (_alarmed_). You're going to recite, Corporal?
_Jaques._ Yes, I'm going to recite. (_Sighs._)
_Amiens._ Fight against it, Corporal, fight against it! It didn't
matter in the old civilian days, long ago; but think if it suddenly
seized you when we were going into action!
_Jaques._ I know, I know. I've often thought of it. But when once it
gets hold of me----(_Pleadingly_) This will only be a very little one,
Amiens.... H'r'm!
All the world's at war
And all the men are learning to be soldiers:
They have their exits--
(_Bugle_)
Dammit, there goes mine.
[_Exit hurriedly, followed by the others._
_Enter_ Rosalind _and_ Celia.
_Rosalind_ (_reading_).
No mistress ever has recalled
A sweeter youth than Archibald.
The only name that never palled
On Rosalind was Archibald.
How firmly is thy face installed
Upon my heart, O Archibald!
_Celia._ Is that your own, dear?
_Rosalind._ I found it on a tree. There's lots more.... Oh, Celia,
listen! It ends up:
O! once I was severely galled
By feathers from my Archibald.
Celia, it must be Orlando! He has penetrated my disguise and he
forgives me!
[_Enter_ Orlando _from left at the head of his men_.
_Orlando_ (_to his platoon_). Halt! Eyes right! (_Advancing to
Rosalind._) Lady, you gave me a feather once. I have lost it. Can you
give me another one? My Colonel says I _must_ have a moustache.
_Rosalind._ Alas, Sir, I have no others.
_Orlando_ (_firmly_). Very well. Then there's only one thing for me to
do. I shall have to join the Navy.
_He does so, thus providing a naval Third Act.... And so eventually to
the long-wished-for end._