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Changes to the FOREST of Arden.

Enter Rofalind in Boys cloaths for Ganimed, Celia dreft like a Shepherdefs for Aliena, and Touchftone the Clown.

Rof.lo. I care not for my fpirits, if my legs

Jupiter! how weary are my spirits ?

were not weary.

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

Cel. 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 fhould bear no crofs, if I did bear you; for I think you have no money in your 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 Silvius.

Cor. That is the way to make her fcorn you still.

6 O Jupiter! how merry are my Spirits? And yet, within the Space of one intervening Line, She fays, She could find in her Heart to difgrace her Man's Apparel, and cry like a Woman. Sure, this is but a very bad Symptom of the Brifkness of Spirits:

rather a direct Proof of the contrary Difpofition. Mr. Warburton and I concurred in conjecturing it fhould be, as I have reformed in the Text: - bow weary are my Spirits? And the Clown's Reply makes this Reading certain. THEOBALD.

Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'ft how I do love her!
Cor. I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now,
Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guefs,
Tho' 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.
Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love fo heartily.
If thou remember'ft not the flighteft folly 7,
That ever love did make thee run into;
Thou haft not lov'd..

Or if thou haft not fate as I do now,
Wearying the hearer in thy mistress' 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 Sil.

Rof. Alas, poor Shepherd! fearching 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 fword upon a stone, and bid him take that, for coming a-nights to Jane Smile; and I remember the kiffing of her batlet, and cow's dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember the wooing of a peafcod inftead of her, from whom I took

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two* cods, and giving her them again, said with weep> ing tears, Wear these for my fake. 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 fpeak'ft wifer, than thou art 'ware of. Clo. Nay, I fhall ne'er be aware of mine own wit, 'till I break my fhins against it.

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

Clo. And mine; but it grows fomething ftale with

me.

Cel. I pray you, one of you question 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 kinsman.
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 defert place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may reft ourselves, and feed:
Here's a young maid with travel much opprefs ́a,
And faints for fuccour.

Cor. Fair Sir, I pity her,

And wish for her fake, more than for mine own,
My fortunes were more able to relieve her:
But I am Shepherd to another man,

*For cods it would be more like fenfe to read peas,which, having the shape of pearls, refembled the common prefents of lovers.

9

fo is all nature in love mortal in folly.] This expreffion I do not well understand. In the middle counties,mortal,from mert

a great quantity, is ufed as a particle of amplification; as, mortal tall, mortal little. Of this fense I believe Shakespeare takes advantage to produce one of his darling equivocations. Thus the meaning will be, fo is all nature in love, abounding in folly.

And

And do not share the fleeces that I graze;
My Mafter is of churlish difpofition,
And little recks 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 fheep-cote now,
By reason of his abfence, there is nothing
That ye will feed on; but what is, come fee;
And in my voice moft welcome shall ye be1.

Rof. What is he, that shall buy his flock and pafture?

Cor. That young fwain, that ye faw here but erewhile,

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 fhalt 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 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.

Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others.

SONG.

Under the green-wood tree,

Who loves to lie with me,

And in my voice right el- far as I have power to bid you come ball ye be.] In my voice, as welcome.

far

as I have a voice or vote, as

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And tune his merry note

Unio the fweet bird's throat,

Come hither, come hither, come hither.
Here fhall 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 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 ftanzo; call you 'em ftanzo's?

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 boaft of them.- -Come, warble, come,

* In old editions, ragged.

SONG.

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