Imatges de pÓgina

« Frosty, but kindly; let me go with you ;'
P'll do the service of a younger man
In all your business and necessities.

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 falhion of these times,
Where none will sweat, but for proniotion;
And, having That, do choak their service up
Even with the Having; it is not fo 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 1pent,
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 almoft 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,



Changes to the FOREST of Arden. Enter Rosalind in Boy's cloaths for Ganimed, Celia

drejt like a Shepherdess for Aliena, and Clown. Ros." Jupiter! how weary are my spirits?

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

2 Jupiter ! how MERRY are my spirits?] And yet within the space of one intervening line, the lays, she could find in her heart to disgrace her man's apparel, and cry like a woman. should be, - bow WBARY are my spirits? And the Clown's reply makes this reading certain.



Rof. I could find in my heart to difgrace 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 mony 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 so, good Touchstone : look you, who comes here ; a young man and an old in solemn talk,

Enter Corin and Silvius. Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! Corin. 1 partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now.

Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou can'st not guess, Tho' in thy youth thou wast as true a lover, As ever sigh'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 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 fate as I do now,

Wearying the hearer in thy mistress praise, 6 Thou hast not lov’d. « Or if thou haft not broke from company


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Abruptly, as my passion now makes me;
• Thou hast not lov’d.'
O Pbebe! Pbebe! Pbebe!

[Exit Sil. Rof. Alas, poor Shepherd! searching of thy wound, I have by hard adventure found my own.

Clo. ic And I mine; I remember, when I was in “ love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid 6 him 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 peafcod instead “ of her, from whom I took two cods, and giving “ her them again, faid with weeping tears, wear these “ for my fake. We, that are true lovers, run into “ strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so 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. Jove! Fove! this Shepherd's passion is much upon my fashion,

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!
Ros. Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman.
Cor. Who calls ?
Clo. Your Betters, Sir.
Cor. Else they are very wretched.

. Peace, I say; good Even to you, friend.
Cor. And to you, gentle Sir, and to you all.
Ros. I proythee, shepherd, if that love or gold
Can in this desart place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may rest our felves, and feed;
Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd,
And faints for succour.


you be

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 :
Besides, 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

will feed on; but what is, come fee; And in my voice most welcome shall . Rof. What is he, that shall buy his flock and

pasture! 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.

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. (Exeun!.

Changes to a defart Part of the FOREST.
Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others.

Under the green-wood tree,
Who loves to lye with me,

And tune bis merry note,
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come bither :

Here shall be see

No enemy,
But winter and rough weather.

Jaq. More, more, I pr’ythee, more.
Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur

Jaques. Jaq: I thank it; more, I proythee, more; I can suck melancholy out of a Song, as a weazel fucks eggs : more, I prythee, more.

Ami. My voice is rugged; I know, I cannot please you.

Jaq. “ I do not desire you to please me, I do de« fire you to sing;” come, come, another stanzo; call you 'em stanzo's?

Ami. What you will, Monsieur Jaques.

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

Ami. More at your request, 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, sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues--

Ami. Well, I'll end the song, 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 disputable 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.

Vol. Ir.



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