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'Tis right, quoth he; thus misery doth part 0, my sweet master, 0, you memory
The flur of company: Anon, a careless herd, of old sir Rowland ! why, what make you here?
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him, Why are you virtuous? why do people love
And never stays to greet him ; Ay, quoth
Jaques,

And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and saSweep on, you fat and greasy citizens ;

liant ? 'Tis just the fashion : Wherefore do you look Why would you be so fond to overcome Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there? The bony priser of the humorous duke? Thus most invectively he pierceth through Your praise is come too swiftly home before The body of the country, city, court,

you. Yea, and of this our life: swearing that we Know you not, master, to some kind of men Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse, Their graces serve them but as enemies ? To fright the animals, and to kill them up, No more do yours; your virtues, gentle master, In their assign’d and native dwelling place. Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. Duke S. And did you leave him in this con- 0, what a world is this, when what is comely templation?

Envenoms him that bears it! 2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and com- Orl. Why, what's the matter? menting

Adam. 0, unhappy youth, Upon the sobbing deer.

Come not within these doors; within this roof Duke S. Show me the place;

The enemy of all your graces lives : I love to cope him in these sullen fits,

Your brother-(no, no brother ; yet the sonFor then he's full of matter.

Yet not the son ;-I will not call him son2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. Of him I was about to call his father,

[Exeunt. Hath heard your praises ; and this night he SCENE II.-A room in the palace. To burn the lodging where you use to lie, Enter Duke FREDERICK, Lords, and

And you within it: if he fail of that,

He will have other means to cut you off: Attendants.

I overheard him, and his practices. Duke F. Can it be possible, that no man saw This is no place, this house is but a butchery; them?

Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. It cannot be: some villains of my court

Orl. Why, whither, Adam, would'st thou Are of consent and sufferance in this.

have me go? 1 Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see Adam. No matter whither, so you come not her.

here. The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, Orl. What, would'st thou have me go and Saw her a-bed ; and, in the morning early,

beg my food ? They found the bed untreasur’d of their mis- Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce tress.

A thievish living on the common road? 2 Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom This I must do, or know not what to do:

Yet this I will not do, do how I can; Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. I rather will subject me to the malice Hesperia, the princess' gentlewoman,

Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother. Confesses, that she secretly o'erheard

Adam. But do not so: I have five hundred Your daughter and her cousin much commend

crowns, The parts and graces of the wrestler,

The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father, That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ; Which I did store, to be my foster-nurse, And she believes, wherever they are gone, When service should in my old limbs lie lame, That youth is surely in their company. And unregarded age in corners thrown; Duke F. Send to his brother ; fetch that gal- Take that : and He, that doth the ravens lant hither;

feed, If he be absent, bring his brother to me, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, I'll make him find him: do this suddenly; Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold ; And let not search and inquisition quail All this I give you : Let me be your servant ; To bring again these foolish runaways. Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty:

[Excunt. For in my youth I never did apply,

Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; SCENE III.-Before Oliver's house. Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo

The means of weakness and debility; Enter ORLANDO and Adam, meeting.

Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Orl. Who's there?

Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you ; Adam. What! my young master? O, my I'll do the service of a younger man gentle master,

In all your business and necessities.

so oft

were not weary.

Orl. O good old man; how well in thee ap- Cor. Into a thousand, that I have forgotten. pears

Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily: The constant service of the antique world, If thou remember'st not the slightest folly, When service sweat for duty, not for meed! That ever love did make thee run into, Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Thou hast not lov'd : Where none will sweat, but for promotion ; Or, if thou hast not sat as I do now, And having that, do choke their service up Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, Even with the having: it is not so with thee. Thou hast not lov'd: But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree, Or, if thou hast not broke from company, That cannot so much as a blossom yield, Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry :

Thou hast not lov'd: 0 Phebe, Phebe, Phebe ! But come thy ways, we'll go along together ;

[Erit Silvius. And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, Ros. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy We'll light upon some settled low content.

wound, Adam. Master, go on; and I will follow thee, I have by hard adventure found mine own. To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.-- Touch. And I mine: I remember, when I was From seventeen years till now, almost fourscore, in love, I broke my sword upon & stone, and bid Here lived I, but now live here no more. him take that for coming anight to Jane Smile: At seventeen years many their fortunes seek; and I remember the kissing of her batlet, and But at fourscore, it is too late a week :

then the cow's dugs that her pretty chop'd hands Yet fortune cannot recompense me better, had milk'd: and I remember the wooing of a Than to die well, and not my master's debtor. peascod instead of her; from whom I took two

[Ereunt. cods, and, giving her them again, said with

weeping tears, Wear these for my sake. We, SCENE IV.- The Forest of Arden. that are true lovers, run into strange capers; but

as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love Enter Rosalind in boy's clothes, Celia drest mortal in folly. like a Shepherdess, and Touchstone.

Ros. Thou speak’st wiser, than thou art'ware of. Ros. O Jupiter ! how weary are my spirits ! Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be 'ware of mine own Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs wit, till I break my shins against it.

Ros. Jove! Jove ! this shepherd's passion Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my Is much upon my fashion. man's apparel, and to cry like a woman : but I Touch. And mine ; but it grows something must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and

stale with me. hose ought to shew itself courageous to petti- Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond man, coat; therefore, courage, good Aliena.

If he for gold will give us any food; Cel

. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go I faint almost to death. no further.

Touch. Holloa ; you, clown! Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with Ros. Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman. you, than bear you : yet I should bear no cross, Cor. Who calls ? if I did bear you ; for, I think, you have no Touch. Your betters, sir. money in your purse.

Cor. Else are they very wretched. Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden.

Ros. Peace, I say: Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden : the more fool Good even to you, friend. 1; when I was at home, I was in a better place; Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. but travellers must be content.

Ros. I pr’ythee, shepherd, if that love, or gold, Ros

. Ay, be so, good Touchstone:-Look you, Can in this desert place buy entertainment, who comes here ; a young man, and an old, in Bring us where we may rest ourselves, and feed:

Here's

's a young maid with travel much oppressid,

And faints for succour.
Enter Corix and Silvius.

Cor. Fair sir, I pity her, Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you and wish for her sake, more than for mine own, still.

My fortunes were more able to relieve her: Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love But I am shepherd to another man,

And do not sheer the fleeces that I graze ; Cor. I partly guess ; for I have lov'd ere now. My master is of churlish disposition, Si. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess; And little recks to find the way to heaven Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover By doing deeds of hospitality : As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow: Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed, But, if thy love were ever like to mine, Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now, (As sure I think did never man love so,) By reason of his absence, there is nothing many actions most ridiculous

That you will feed on; but what is, come see, Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy ? And in my voice most welcome shall you be.

solenn talk.

her!

How

No enemy,

No enemy,

Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and

SONG. pasture? Cor. That young swain, that you saw here but Who doth ambition shun, [All together here. erewhile,

And loves to live i the sun,
That little cares for buying any thing.

Seeking the food he eats,
Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, And pleas'd with what he gets,
Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, Come hither, come hither, come hither ;
And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.

Here shall he see
Cel. And we will mend thy wages : I like this
place,

But winter and rough weather. And willingly could waste my time in it.

Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold : Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I Go with me; if you like, upon report, made yesterday in despite of my invention. The soil, the profit, and this kind of life,

Ami. And I'll sing it. I will your very faithful feeder be,

Jaq. Thus it goes: And buy it with your gold right suddenly.

[Excunt.

If it do come to pass,

That any man turn ass,
SCENE V.-The same.

Leaving his wealth aud ease,

A stubborn will to please,
Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and others.

Ducdàme, ducdàme, ducdème;

Here shall he see
SONG.

Gross fools as he,
Ami. Under the greenwood tree

And if he will come to Ami.
Who loves to lie with me,

Ami. What's that ducdame?
And tune his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,

Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into
Come hither, come hither, come hither;

a circle. I'll go sleep, if I can ; if I cannot, IT Here shall he sec

rail against all the first-born of Egypt.

Ami. And I'll go seek the duke; his banquet But winter and rough weather.

is prepar'd.

Ereunt severaly. Jaq. More, more, I pr’ythee, more.

SCENE VI.-The same. Ami. It will make you melancholy, monsieur

Enter ORLANDO and ADAM. Jaques.

Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr’ythee, more. I Adam. Dear master, I can go no further: 0, can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel 1 die for food ! Here lie I down, and measure out sucks eggs : More, i pr’ythee, more.

my grave. Farewell, kind master. Ami. My voice is ragged ; I know, I cannot Orl. Why, how now, Adam ! no greater heart please you.

in thee ? Live a little; comfort a little; cheer Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do thyself a little : If this uncouth forest yield any desire you to sing: Come, more; another stan- thing savage, I will either be food for it, or bring call you them stanzas ?

it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death Ami. What you will, monsieur Jaques. than thy powers. For my sake, be comfortable ;

Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names; they hold death awhile at the arm's end: I will here owe me nothing: Will you sing ?

be with thee presently; and if I bring thee not Ami. More at your request, than to please something to eat, I'll give thee leave to die: bus myself.

if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of Jag. Well, then, if ever I thank any man, I'll my labour. Well said ! thou look'st cheerily: thank you : but that, they call compliment, is and I'll be with thee quickly. Yet thou liest in like the encounter of two dog-apes ; and, when the bleak air : Come, I will bear thee to some a man thanks me heartily, ‘methinks, I have shelter ; and thou shalt not die for lack of a dino given him a penny, and he renders me the beg- ner, if there live any thing in this desert. Cheer garly thanks. Come, sing ; and you that will ly, good Adam ! not, hold your tongues. Ami. Well, I'll end the song.–Sirs, cover the

SCENE VII.-The same. while; the duke will drink under this tree :he hath been all this day to look you.

A table set out. Enter Duke senior, AMIENS, Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid

Lords, and others. him. He is too disputable for my company : I Duke S. I think he be transform'd into a beast; think of as many matters as he'; but I give For I can no where find him like a man. heaven thanks, and make no boast of them. i Lord. My lord, he is buteven now gone hence; Come, warble, come.

Here was he merry, hearing of a song.

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[Ex.

Duke S. If he, compact of jats, grow musical, Cleanse the foul body of the infected world,
We shall have shortly discord in the spheres :- If they will patiently receive my medicine.
Go, seek him ; tell him, I would speak with him. Duke $. Fye on thee! I can tell what thou

would'st do.
Enter JAQUES.

Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but 1 Lord. He saves my labour by his own ap

good? proach.

Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chia Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur ! what a

ding sin : life is this,

For thou thyself hast been a libertine, That your poor friends must woo your company? As sensual as the brutish sting itself What! you look merrily.

And all the embossed sores, and headed evils, Jaq. Á fool, a fool! I met a fool i'the forest, That thou with licence of free foot hast caught, A motley fool;

a miserable world! Would'st thou disgorge into the general world. As I do live by food, I met a fool ;

Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride, Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, That can therein tax any private party? And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms,

Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, In good set terms,- and yet a motley fool. Till that the very very means do ebb? Good-morrow, fool, quoth I: No, sir, quoth he, What woman in the city do I name, Call me not fool, tiú heaven hath sent me fortune : When that I say, The city-woman bears And then he drew a dial from his poke; The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders ? And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Who can come in, and say, that I mean her, Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock :

When such a one as she, such is her neighbour ? Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags: Or what is he of basest function, 'Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine ; That says, his bravery is not on my cost, And after an hour more, 'twill be eleven; (Thinking that I mean him,) but therein suits And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, His folly to the mettle of my speech ? And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot, There then; How, what then? Let me see And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear

wherein The motley fool thus moral on the time, My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right, My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free, That fools should be so deep-contemplative; Why then, my taxing like a wild-goose flies, And I did laugh, sans intermission,

Unclaim'd of any man.But who comes here? An hour by his dial.- noble fool ! A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.

Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn. Duke S. What fool is this?

Orl. Forbear, and eat no more. Jaq. O worthy fool !-One, that hath been a Jaq. Why, I have eat none yet. courtier;

Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd. And says, if ladies be but young and fair,

Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of? They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,- Duke S. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy Which is as dry as the remainder bisket

distress; After a voyage, --he hath strange places cramm’d or else a rude despiser of good manners, With observation, the which he vents

That in civility thou seem'st so empty? In mangled forms:-0, that I were a fool! Orl. You touch'd my vein at first; the thorny i am ambitious for a motley coat.

point Duke S. Thou shalt have one.

Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Jag. It is my only suit ;

Of smooth civility : yet am I inland bred, Provided, that you weed your better judgments And know some nurture : But forbear, I say; Of all opinion that grows rank in them, He dies, that touches any of this fruit, That I am wise. I must have liberty

Till I and my affairs are answered. Withal , as large a charter as the wind,

Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, To blow on whom I please ; for so fools have; I must die. And they, that are most galled with my folly,

Duke S. What would you have? your gentleThey most must laugh : And why, sir, must ness shall force, they so?

More than your force move us to gentleness. The why is plain as way to parish church: Orl. I almost die for food, and let me have it. He, that a fool doth very wisely hit,

Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to Doth very foolishly, although he smart, Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not, Orh Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd

you: Even by the sqand'ring glances of the fool. I thought that all things had been savage here; lavest me in my motley; give me leave And therefore put I on the countenance To speak my mind, and I will through and Of stern commandment: But whate'er you are,

That in this desert inaccessible,

our table.

through

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Under the shade of melancholy boughs, For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
If ever you have look'd on better days; And whistles in his sound: Last scene of all,
If ever been, where bells have knoll'd to church; That ends this strange eventful history,
If ever sat at any good man's feast;

Is second childishness, and mere oblivion;
If ever from your eye-lids wip'd a tear, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
And know what 'tis to pity, and be pitied ;
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be:

Re-enter ORLANDO, with Adam. In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword. Duke S. Welcome : Set down your venerable Duke S. True is it, that we have seen better burdeng days;

And let him feed. And have with holy bell been knoll’d to church; Orl. I thank you most for him. And sat at good men's feasts; and wip'd our eyes Adam. So had you need ; Of drops, that sacred pity hath engender’d: I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. And therefore sit you down in gentleness, Duke S. Welcome, fall to : I will not trouble And take upon command what help we have,

you That to your wanting may be ministred. As yet, to question you about your fortunes :

Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while, Give us some musick; and, good cousin, sing.
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn,
And give it food. There is an old poor man,

AMIENS sings.
Who after me hath many a weary step
Limp'd in pure love ; till he be first suffic'd,-

SONG.
Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger,-

1. I will not touch a bit.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Duke S. Go find him out,

Thou art not so unkind And we will nothing waste, till you

return.

As man's ingratitude ; Orl. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good Thy tooth is not so keen, comfort!

[Erit. Because thou art not seen, Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone un

Although thy breath be rude. happy:

Heigh, ho! sing heigh, ho! unto the green holly : This wide and universal theatre

Most friendshipis feigning, most loving mere folly: Presents more woeful pageants than the scene

Then, heigh, ho, the holly!
Wherein we play in.

This life is most jolly.
Jaq. All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players :

II.
They have their exits, and their entrances ;

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, And one man in his time plays many parts,

That dost not bite so nigh His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,

As benefits forgot : Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms;

Though thou the waters warp, And then the whining school-boy, with his sat- Thy sting is not so sharp chell,

As friend remember'd not. And shining morning face, creeping like snail Heigh, ho! sing heigh, ho! &c. Unwillingly to school : And then, the lover; Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Duke S. If that you were the good sir RowMade to his mistress' eye-brow: Then, a soldier; Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, As you have whisper'd faithfully, you were ; Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, And as mine eye doth his effigies witness Seeking the bubble reputation

Most truly limn'd, and living in your face, Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the Be truly welcome hither : I am the duke, justice;

That lov'd your father : The residue of your In fair round belly, with good capon lin’d,

fortune, With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man, Full of wise saws and modern instances, Thou art right welcome as thy master is: And so he plays his part : The sixth age shifts Support him by the arm. --Give me your hand, Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon; And let me all your fortunes understand. With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide

land's son,

(Eseunt.

1

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