To bear your griefs yourfelf, and leave me out:
For by this heav'n, now at our forrows pale,
Say what thou canft, I'll go along with thee.
Ros. Why, whither shall we go?
CEL. To feek my uncle in the forest of Arden.
Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth fo far!
Beauty provoketh thieves fooner than gold.
CEL. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
And with a kind of umber fmirch my face;
The like do you; fo fhall we pass along,
And never ftir affailants.
Ros. Were't not better,
Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did fuit me all points like a man?
A gallant curtle-ax upon my thigh,
A boar-spear in my hand, and (in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will)
I'll have a swashing and a martial outfide,
As many other manish cowards have,
That do outface it with their femblances.
CEL. What shall I call thee, when thou art a man?
Ros. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page; And therefore, look, you call me Ganimed.
But what will you be call'd?
CEL. Something that hath a reference to my state:
No longer Celia, but Aliena.
Ros. But, coufin, what if we afsaid to steal
The clownish fool out of your father's court?
Would he not be a comfort to our travel?
CEL. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me, Leave me alone to woo him. Let's away,
And get our jewels and our wealth together;
Devise the fittest time, and safest way
To hide us from pursuit that will be made
After my flight: now go we in content
To liberty, and not to banishment.
Enter Duke fenior, Amiens, and two or three lords like
NOW, my co-mates, and brothers in exile,
Hath not old cuftom made this life more fweet
Than that of painted pomp? are not these woods
More free from peril, than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The feafons' difference; as, the icy fang,
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind;
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even 'till I fhrink with cold, I fmile, and fay,
This is no flattery: these are counsellors,
That feelingly perfuade me what I am.
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head:
And this our life, exempt from publick haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
AMI. I would not change it. Happy is your grace,
That can tranflate the flubbornnefs of fortune
Into fo quiet and fo fweet a style.
DUKE fen. Come, fhall we go and kill us venifon? And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools,
Being native burghers of this defert city,
Should, in their own confines, with forked heads
Have their round haunches goar'd.
I LORD. Indeed, my lord,
The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;
And in that kind fwears you do more ufurp
Than doth your brother, that hath banish'd you.
To day my lord of Amiens, and myself,
Did fteal behind him, as he lay along
Under an oak, whofe antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood;
To the which place a poor fequeftred stag,
That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,
Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord,
The wretched animal heav'd forth fuch groans
That their discharge did ftretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nofe
In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on th' extremeft verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.
DUKE fen. But what faid Jaques ?
Did he not moralize this fpectacle?
I LORD. O yes, into a thousand fimilies.
First, for his weeping in the needless stream;
Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak'ft a testament
As worldlings do, giving thy fum of more
To that which had too much. Then being alone,
Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends:
'Tis right, quoth he, thus mifery doth part
The flux of company. Anon a careless herd,
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him,
And never stays to greet him: Ay, quoth Jaques,
Sweep on you fat and greasy citizens,
'Tis just the fashion: wherefore do
you look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?
Thus moft invectively he pierceth through
The body of the country, city, court,
Yea, and of this our life; fwearing, that we
Are meer ufurpers, tyrants, and what's worse,
To fright the animals, and to kill them up
In their affign'd and native dwelling place.
DUKE fen. And did you leave him in this contemplation? 2 LORD. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting Upon the fobbing deer.`
DUKE fen. Show me the place;
I love to cope him in these fullen fits.
For then he's full of matter.
2 LORD. I'll bring you to him ftraight.
SCENE II. Changes to the palace again.
Enter Duke Frederick with lords.
DUKE. Can it be poffible, that no man saw them? It cannot be. Some villains of my court
Are of consent and fufferance in this.
I LORD. I cannot hear of any that did see her,
The ladies, her attendants of her chamber,
Saw her a-bed, and in the morning early'
They found the bed untreafur'd of their mistress.
2 LORD. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft Your grace was wont to laugh, is alfo miffing.
Hefperia, the princefs' gentlewoman,
Confeffes, that she secretly o'erheard
Your daughter and her cousin much commend
The parts and graces of the wrestler,
That did but lately foil the finewy Charles;
And the believes, where ever they are gone,
That youth is furely in their company.
DUKE. Send to his brother: Fetch that gallant hither; If he be abfent, bring his brother to me,
I'll make him find him. Do this fuddenly;
And let not fearch and inquifition quail
To bring again these foolish runaways.
SCENE III. Changes to Oliver's house.
Enter Orlando and Adam.
ADAM. What! my young mafter? oh, my gentle master, Oh, my sweet master, O you memory
Of old Sir Rowland! why, what make you here?
Why are you virtuous? why do people love you?
And wherefore are you gentle, ftrong, and valiant?
Why would you be fo fond to overcome
The bony prifer of the humorous duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not, master, to some kind of men
Their graces ferve them but as enemies?
No more do yours; your virtues, gentle master,
Are fanctified and holy traitors to you.
Oh, what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it!
ORLA. Why, what's the matter?
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