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Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.

Orla. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here.

Orla. What, wouldīt thou have me go and beg my food? Or with a base, and boisterous sword enforce A thievish living on the common road? This I must do, or know not what to do : Yet this I will not do, do how I can ; I rather will subject me to the malice Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother.

Adam. But do not so; I have five hundred crowns, The thrifty hire I fav'd under your father, Which I did ftore, to be my foster-nurse When service should in my old limbs lie lame, And unregarded age in corners thrown ; Take That; and he that doth the ravens feed, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Be comfort to my age ! here is the gold, All this I give you, let me be your servant ; Tho' I look old, yet I am strong and lusty ; For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood ; Nor did I with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility ; 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 neceslities.

Orla. Oh! good old man, how well in thee 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'st a rotten tree, That cannot so much as a blossom 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

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We'll light upon some settled low Content.

Adam. Master, 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 more. At seventeen years Many their fortunes seek;. But at fourscore, it is too late a week ; Yet fortune cannot recompence me better Than to die well, and not my master's debtor. (Exe. SCENE changes to the FOREST of Arden. Enter Rosalind in Boy's cloaths for Ganimed, Celia drejt

like a Shepherdess for Aliena, and Clown.

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

Rof. 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 it self courageous to petticoat; therefore, courage, good Aliena.

Cel. I pray you, bear with me, I cannot 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 inony in your 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.

(s) o Jupiter! how merry are my Spirits? ] And yet, within the space of one intervening Line, She says, She could find in her Heart to disgrace her Man's Apparel, and cry like a Woman. Sure, this is but a very bad Sympto n of the Brisknejs of Spirits: rather, a direct Proof of the contrary Disposition. Mr. Warburton and I, concurr'd in conjecturing it should te, as I have reform'd it in the Text: -- how weary are my Sparits ? And the Clown's Reply makes this Reading certain.

Enter

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

Sil. No,. Corin, being old, thou can't not guess, Tho' 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 so) How many actions most ridiculous Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasie?

Çor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.

Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily ;
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly,
That ever love did make thee run into ;
Thou hast not lov'd.
Or if thou hast not sate as I do now,
Wearying the hearer in thy mistress praise,
Thou hast not lov’d.
Or if thou hast not broke from company,
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me ;
Thou hast not lov'd.
O Phebe ! Phebe! Phebe!

[Exit Sil. Ros. 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 bic nim take that for coming a-nights to Jane Smile ; and I remember the kisling of her batlet, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I took two cods, and giving her them again, said with weeping 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 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. Yove! Jove! this Shepherd's passion is much upon my fashion,

Cle

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.
Cor. Else they are very wretched.
Ros. Peace, I say ; good Even to you, friend.
Cor. And to you, gentle Sir, and to you all.

Rof. I proythee, shepherd, if that love or gold
Can in this defart place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may rest our felves, and feed;
Here's

's a young maid with travel much oppress’d,
And faints for succour.

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,
And do not sheer the fleeces that I

graze ;
My master is of churlish disposition,
And little wreaks to find the way to heav'n
By doing deeds of hospitality :
Befides, his Coate, his flocks, and bounds of feed
Are now on sale, and at our sheep-coate 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 par

ture ? 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.
Vol. II,

N

Cor,

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1:

Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be fold;
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 changes to a defart Part of the

FOREST
Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others,

S O N G,
Under the green-wood tree,
Who loves to lye with me,
And tune his merry note,
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come kither :

Here fall he fee

No enemy,

can

But quirter and rough weather. Jaq. More, more, I pr’ythee, more. Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques.

Faq. I thank it; more, I proythee, more ; 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 desire you to please me, I do defire you to sing ;t come, come, another stanzo ; call you 'em itanzo'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 request, than to please my self.

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.

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