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ROS. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
Cel. And we will mend thy wages.
Cor. Afsuredly, the thing is to be fold;
S ON G.
Here shall be fee
No enemy, But winter and rough weather. Jaq. 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 fuck melancholy out of a long, as a weazel fuck's 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 fing;” come, come, another stanzo; call you 'em stanzo'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, sing; 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.
S O N G.
Here shall he fee
But winter and rough weather. Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I made yelterday in despight of my invention.
Ami. And I'll sing it.
If it do come to pass,
Here Mall he fee
Gross fools as he, . An if he will come to me. Ami. What's that Duç 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 seck' the Duke; his banquet is prepar'd.
[Exeunt, feverally. SCENE VI. Enter Orlando and Adam.. Adam. Dear master, I can go no further; 0, I die Vol. II. HI
for food ! here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewel, lind maiter.
Orla. Why, how now, Adam ! no greater heart in thee? live a little; comfort a little ; cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, I will either be food for it, or bring it for food to thee : thy conceit is nearer deaih, than thy powers. For my fake be comfortable, hold death a while at the arm's end. I will be here with thee presently; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I'll give thee leave to die. But if thou dieit before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well faid, thou look'st cheerly. And I'll be with thee quickly; yet thou liest in the bleak air. Come, I will bear thee to some shelter, and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this desart. Cheerly, good Adam. [Exeunt.
Enter Duke sen. and Lords. [A table set out. Duke fen. I think he is transform'd into a beast, For I can no where find him like a man.
i Lord. My Lord, he is but even now gone hence. Here was he merry, hearing of a fong.
Duke fen. If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
this, That your poor friends muft woo your company? What? you look merrily.
Jaq. A fool, a fool ;-I met a fcol i' th' forest, A motely fool; a miserably varlet ! As I do live by food, I met a fool, Who laid him down and bask'd him in the fun, And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, In good fet terms, and yet a motely fool. • Good morrow, fool, quoth 1: No, Sir, quoth he, Call me not fool, till Heavon hath sent me fortune;
• And then he drew a dial from his poak, * And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock : " Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wagsi " 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, • And after one hour more 'twill be eleven; • And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,
And then from hour to hour we rot and rot,
Duke fen. What fool is this?
fag.“ 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-bisket “ After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd “ With observation, the which he vents “ In mangled forms. O that I were a fool ! I am ambitious for a motley coat.
Duke fen. Thou shalt have one.
Jaq. It is my only suit;
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, mult they so? " The why is plain, as way to parish-church; “ He whom a fool doth very wisely hit, “ Doth very foolishly although he smart, “ Not to feem senseless of the bob. If not, “ The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd “ Even by the fquand'ring glances of a 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, Hh 2
If they will patiently receive my medicine."').
! Duke sen. Fie on thee ! I can tell what thou wouldit
do. Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do but good ?
Duke fen. Most mischievous foul fin, in chiding fin: For thou thyself hast been a libertine, As fenfual as the brutish sting itself; And all th' embossed fores and headed evils, That thou with licence of free foot haft caught, Wouldlt thou disgorge into the general worid.
Jaq. “ Why, who cries oừt on pride, " That can therein tax any private party? “ Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, “ 'Till that the very 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 urworthy shoulders ? “ Who can come in, and say, that I mean her ; " When such a one as she, such is her neighbour? os Or what is he of baseit function, “ That says, his bravery is not on my cost;
Thinking, that I mean him; but therein fuits “ His folly to the metal of my speech? “ There then; how then? what then ? let me fee
" wherein “ My tongue hath wrong'd him ; if it do him right, “ Then he hath wrong'd himself: if he be free, “ Why, then my taxing, like a wild goose, flies “ Unclaim'd of any man.
But who comes here? SCENE VIII. Enter Orlando, with his sword drawn.
Orla. Forbear, and eat no more.-
Duke fen. Art thou thus boldend, man, by thy difOr 'else a rude despiser of good manners,
[tress? That in civility thou seem'st so empty?
Orla. You touch'd my vein at first; the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the shew Of smooth civility; yet am I in-land bred, And know some nurture. But forbear, I say.