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Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it,

food?

Orla. Why, whither, Adam, wouldft thou have me go?
Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here.
Orla. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my
Or with a base, and boisterous fword 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 fubject me to the malice
Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother.

Adam. But do not fo; I have five hundred crowns,
The thrifty hire I fav'd under your father,
Which I did ftore, to be my fofter-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 fparrow,
Be comfort to my age! here is the gold,
All this I give you, let me be your fervant ;
Tho' I look old, yet I am strong and lufty
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
Nor did I with unbafhful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility;
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 bufinefs and neceffities.

Orla. Oh! good old man, how well in thee appears

The conftant fervice of the antique world;
When fervice sweat 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 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

We'll light upon some settled 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 seventeen years Many their fortunes feek;
But at fourfcore, it is too late a week;
Yet fortune cannot recompence me better

Than to die well, and not my mafter's debtor. [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the FOREST of Arden. Enter Rofalind in Boy's cloaths for Ganimed, Celia dres like a Shepherdess for Aliena, and Clown.

Ref.

Jupiter! how weary are my spirits? (5) Clo. I care not for my fpirits, if my legs were not weary.

Ref. 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 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 Crofs, if I did bear you; for, I think, you have no mony 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.

(5) O Jupiter! bow 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 Brisknefs of Spirits: rather, a direct Proof of the contrary Difpofition. Mr. Warburton and I, concurr'd in conjecturing it should be, as I have reform'd it in the Text :-how weary are my Spirits? And the Clown's Reply makes this Reading certain.

Enter

Enter Corin and Silvius.

Cor. That is the way to make her fcorn you ftill.
Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'ft how I do love her!
Cor. I partly guefs; for I have lov'd ere now.
Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou can'ft not guess,
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 most ridiculous

Haft thou been drawn to by thy fantasie?
Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
Sil. 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.

Or if thou haft not fate as I do now,
Wearying the hearer in thy mistress praise,
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 ftone, and bid him take that for coming a nights to Jane Smile; and I remember the kiffing 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, faid with weeping tears, wear thefe for my fake. 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'st wiser, than thou art ware of. Clo. Nay, I fhall ne'er be ware of my own wit, 'till I break my fhins against it.

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

Cla.

a

1

lo. 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 defart place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may reft our felves, and feed ;
Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd,
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,

And do not sheer the fleeces that I graze;

My mafter is of churlifh difpofition,

And little wreaks to find the way to heav'n
By doing deeds of hofpitality:

Befides, his Coate, his flocks, and bounds of feed
Are now on fale, and at our sheep-coate now,
By reason of his abfence, there is nothing

That you will feed on; but what is, come fee;
And in my voice most welcome shall you be.

Rof. What is he, that fhall buy his flock and paf-
ture?

Cor. That young fwain, that you faw here but ere while,

That little cares for buying any thing.

Rof. I pray thee, if it ftand with honefty,
Buy thou the cottage, pafture, 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.

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 changes to a defart Part of the
FORES T.

Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others.
SONG.

Under the green-wood tree,

Who loves to lye with me,

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.

Jaq. More, more, I pr'ythee, more.

I can

Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monfieur Jaques. faq. I thank it; more, I pr'ythee, 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 defire you to please me, I do defire call you 'em you to fing; come, come, another stanzo; 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, fing; and you that will not, hold your tongues

Ami.