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Therefore my age is as a lufty winter,

Frofty, but kindly; let me go with you; I'll do the fervice of a younger man

In all your business and neceffitics.

Orla. Oh! good old man, how well in thee appears The conftant fervice of the antique world; When fervice fweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will fweat, but for promotion; And having that, do choak their fervice up Even with the having; it is not fo with thee; But, poor old man, thou prun'ft a rotten tree, That cannot fo 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 laft gafp with truth and loyalty. From feventeen years till now almost fourfcore Here lived I, but now live here no more. At feventeen years many their fortunes feek; But at fourfcore, it is too late a week; Yet fortune cannot recompenfe me better Than to die well, and not my mafter's debtor. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Changes to the foreft of Arden.

Enter Rofalind in boy's cloaths far Ganymede, Celia dress'd like a fhepherdefs for Aliena, and Clown.

Ref. O Jupiter! how weary are my fpirits?
Clo. I care not for my fpirits, if my legs were not

weary.

Rof. I could find in my heart to difgrace my man's apparel, and cry like a woman; but I muft comfort the weaker veffel, as doublet and hofe ought to fhow itself courageous to petticoat: therefore, courage, good Aliena.

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

Cle. 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 foreft 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 folemn talk. Enter Corin and Sylvius.

Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you ftill. Syl. O Corin, that thou knew'ft how I do love her! Cor. I partly guefs; for I have lov'd ere now. Syl. No, Corin, being old, thou can'ft not guefs, Though in thy youth thou waft as true a lover, As ever figh'd upon a midnight-pillow; But if thy love were ever like to mine, (As fure, I think, did never man love fo), How many actions moft 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 fo heartily;
• If thou remember'ft not the flightest folly,
That ever love did make thee run into;
Thou haft not lov'd.-

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• Or if thou haft not fat as I do now,

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Wearying the hearer in thy miftrefs' praife,
Thou haft not lov'd.-

• Or if thou haft not broke from company
Abruptly, as my paffion now makes me;
Thou haft not lov'd'.-

O Phebe! Phebe! Phebe !

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

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Clo. "And I mine. I remember, when I was in love, I broke my fword 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 peafcod inftead of her, from "whom I took two cods, and giving her them again, "faid with weeping tears, Wear thefe for my fake.

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

Rof. Thou fpeak'ft wifer, than thou art ware of. Clo. Nay, I fhall ne'er be ware of mine own wit, till I break my fhins against it.

Rof. Jove! Jove! this fhepherd's paffion is much upon my fashion.

Clo. And mine; but it grows fomething ftale with me. Gel. I pray you, one of you queftion yond man, If he for gold will give us any food;

I faint almoft to death.

Clo. Holla; you, clown!

Rof. Peace, fool; he's not thy kinfman.
Cor. Who calls?

Clo. Your betters, Sir.

Cor. Elfe they are very wretched.

Rof. Peace, I fay: Good even to you, friend.
Cor. And to you; gentle Sir, and to you all.
Rof. I pr'ythee, fhepherd, if that love or gold
Can in this defart place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may reft ourfelves, and feed;
Here's a young maid with travel much opprefs'd,
And faints for fuccour.

Cor. Fair Sir, I pity her,

And with 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 grafe;

My mafter is of churlish difpofition,

And little wreaks to find the way to heav'n

By doing deeds of hofpitality:

Befides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed
Are now on fale, and at our sheep-cote now,
By reafon of his abfence, there is nothing
That you will feed on; but what is, come fee,
And in my voice moft welcome shall you be.

Rof. What is he that shall buy his flock and pa

fture?

Cor. That young swain that you faw here but ere

while,

That little cares for buying any thing.

Rof. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, Buy thou the cottage, pafture, and the flock, And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.

Gel. And we will mend thy wages.

I like this place, and willingly could wafte
My time in it.

Cor. Affuredly, the thing is to be fold;
Go with me; if you like, upon report,
The foil, the profit, and this kind of life,
I will your very faithful feeder be;
And buy it with your gold right fuddenly.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. Changes to a defart part of the foreft.

Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others.

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And tune his merry note,

Unto the fweet bird's throat,

Come hither, come hither, come hither:

Here fhall 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 fuck 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 defire you to please me, I do defire you to fing;" come, come, another stanzo ; call you 'em ftanzo's ?

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Ami. What you will, Monfieur Jaques.

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

Ami. More at your requeft, 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, fing; and you that will not, hold your tongues.

Ami. Well, I'll end the fong, 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 difputable 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 fhun,

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 enemy

But winter and rough weather.

Faq. I'll give you a verfe to this note, that I made ye terday in defpight of my invention.

Ami. And I'll fing it.

Jaq. Thus it goes.

If it do come to pass,

That any man turn afs;

Leaving his wealth and eafe

A ftubborn will to please,

Duc ad me, duc ad me, duc ad mea

Here fhall be fee

Grofs fools as he,

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 fleep if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt.

Ami. And I'll go feek the Duke; his banquet is prepar❜d. [Exeunt, Jeverally.

SCENE VI. Enter Orlando and Adam.

Adam. Dear mafter, I can go no further; O, I die

VOL. II.

X

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