6

• 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 necessitics.

Orla. Oh! good old man, how well in thce appears
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 choak their service up
Even with the having; it is not so with thee;
But, poor old man, thou prun it a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a bloffom yield,
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.
But come thy ways, we'll go along together;
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,
We'll light upon fome fettled low content.

Adam. Mafter, 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 inore. At seventeen years many their fortunes feek; 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.

SCENE IV. Changes to the forest of Arden. Enter Rosalind in boy's cloaths for Ganymede, Celia

drefi'd like a shepherdefs for Aliena, and Clown.

Rof. O Jupiter ! how weary are my spirits?

Clo. I care not for my fpirits, if my legs were not weary.

Rol. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel, and cry like a woman; but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat : therefore, courage, good Aliena.

Gel. I pray you, bear with me, I can go no further.

Clo. 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 you purse.

Rof. Well, this is the forest of Arden.

Clo. Ay; now I am in Arden, the more fool I; when I was at home, I was in a better place; but travellers must be content.

Rof. Ay, be fo, good Touchstone. Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in solemn talk.

Enter Corin and Sylvius. Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Syl. O Corin, that thou knew'ft how I do love her! Cor. I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now.

Syl. No, Corin, being old, thou can't not guess, Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover, As ever figh'd upon a midnight-pillow; But if thy love were ever like to mine, (As sure, I think, did never man love fo); How many actions most ridiculous Haft thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?

Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.

Syl. · O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily; • If thou remember'ft not the flightest folly, - That ever love did make thee run into; « Thou hast not lov'd. • Or if thou hast not fat as I do now,

Wearying the hearer in thy mistress' praise, « Thou haft not lov’d.6 Or if thou hast not broke from company

Abruptly, as my passion now makes me;

Thou haft not lov'd'.-
O Phebe! Phebe! Fhebe!

[Exit Syl. Rof. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy wound, I have by hard adventure found my own.

Clo. " 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-nights to Jane Smile; and I re“ member the killing of her batlet, and the cow's dugs “ that her pretty chopt hands had milk’d; and I re“ member the wooing of a peascod instead of her, from “ whom I took two cods, and giving her them agaip, " said with weeping tears, Wear these for my fake. .

upon my fashion.

6. We that are true lovers, run into strange capers ; “ but as all is mortal in nature, fo is all nature in love “ mortal in folly."

Rof. Thou speak'st wiser, than thou art ware of. Clo. Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit, till I break my shins against it.

Rof. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion is much
Clo. 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.

Clo. Holla; you, clown!
Rof. Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman.
Cor. Who calls ?
Clo. Your betters, Sir.
Gor. Else they are very wretched.
Rof. Peace, I say: Good even to you, friend.
Cor. And to you; gentle Sir, and to you all.

Rof. I pr’ythee, thepherd, if that love or gold
Can in this desart place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may rest ourselves, and feed;
Here's a young maid with travel much oppress’d,
And faints for succour.

Gor. Fair Sir, I pity her,
And wish for her fake, more than för mine own,
My fortunes were more able to relieve her :
But I am shepherd to another man,
And do not sheer the fleeces that I grase;
My master is of churlish disposition,
And little wreaks to find the way to heav'n
By doing deeds of hospitality :
* Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed
Are now on sale, and at our sheep-cote 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. Rof. What is he that shall buy his flock and pa

sture?
Cor. That young swain that you saw here but ere

while,
That little cares for buying any thing.

Rof. 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. Affuredly, 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.
SCENE V. Changes to a desart part of the forest.

Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others.

S Ο Ν G.
Under the greenwood-tree,
Who loves to lie with me,
Arid tune his merry note,
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither :

Here shall he fee

No enemy,

But winter and rough weather. Faq. More, more, I pr’ythee, more, ami. It will make you melancholy, Monfieur Jaques.

Jaq. I thank it; more, I pr’ythee, more; I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel fucks eggs : more, I pr’ythee, more.

Ami. My voice is rugged; I know I cannot please

you.

Jaq. “I do not desire you to please me, I do desire

you to ling;" come, come, another. stanzo ; call you 'em ftanzo's ?

Ami. What you will, Monsieur Jaques.

Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names, they owe me nothing. -Will you fing?

Ami. More at your request, than to please myself.

Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you; but that they call compliments, is like the encounter of two dog-apes. And when a man thanks

me heartily, methinks I have given him a penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, ling; and you that will not, hold your tongues.

Ami. Well, I'll end the song, Sirs; cover the while; the Duke will dine under this tree; he hath been all this day to look you.

Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too disputable for my company : I think of as many matters as he, but I give Heav'n thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come,

SONG,
Who doth ambition thun,
And loves to lie i' th fun,
Seeking the food he eats,
and pleas'd with what he gets;
Come hither, come hither, come hither;

Here Jhall he jee

No enerzy

But winter and rough weather.
Jeq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I made

yes sterday in defpight of my invention, .

Ami. And I'll sing it.
Jaq. Thus it goes.

If it do come to pass,
Thai any man turn afs ;
Leaving his wealth and ease
A stubborn will to please,
Duc ad me, duc ad nie, duc ad me's

Here shall be see

Grof fools as be,
An if he will come to me.
Ami. What's that Duc ad me?

Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. I'll go to 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 prepar'd.

[Exeunt, leverrilly. SCENE VI. Enter Orlando and Adam. Adam. Dear master, I can go no further; 0, I die VOL. II.