2 Lord. We did, my Lord, weeping and commenting Upon the fobbing deer.

Duke Sen. 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 The Palace again.
Enter Duke Frederick with Lords,

Duke. Can it be poffible that no man faw them?
It cannot be; fome villains of my court
Are of confent and fufferance in this.

1 Lord. I cannot hear of any that did fee 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 miftrefs.

[Exeunt.

2 Lord. My lord, the roynifh clown, at whom so oft
Your Grace was wont to laugh, is alfo miffing:
Hifperia, the Princefs' gentlewoman,
Confeffes that the fecretly o'erheard

Your daughter and her coufin much commend
The parts and graces of the wreftler
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 thefe foolish runaways.

SCENE III. Oliver's Houfe.
Enter Orlando and Adam.

Orla. Who's there?

[Exeunt,

Adam. What! my young mafter? oh my gentle mafter, Oh my fweet mafter, 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 bonny prifer of the humorous Duke?
Your praife is come too fwiftly home before you.

Know

Know you not, mafter, to fome kind of men
Their graces ferve them but as enemies?
No more do yours; your virtues, gentle mafter,
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?

Adam. O unhappy youth,

Come not within thefe doors; within this roof

The enemy of all your graces lives:

Your brother

(no; no brother, yet the son,

Yet not the fon, I will not call him fon

Of him I was about to call his father,)

Hath heard your praises, and this night he means
To burn the lodging where you ufe to lye,
And you within it; if he fail of that,
He will have other means to cut you off;

I overheard him and his practices:

This is no place, this house is but a butchery;
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.

Orla. Why, whither, Adam, wouldft thou have me go?
Adam. No matter whither, fo you come not here.
Orla. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food,
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 fervice fhould in my old limbs be 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 servant;
Tho' I look old, yet I am ftrong and lusty ;
For in my youth I never did apply

Hot

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 lufty winter,
Frofty, but kindly; let me go with you,
I'll do the fervice of a younger man
In all your business and neceffities.

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 fweat but for promotion,
And having that, do choak their service up
Even with the having; it is net fo with thee;
But, poor old man, thou prun'ft a rotten tree,
That cannot fo much as a bloffom 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 light upon fome fettled 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 fourscore
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 master's debtor.
SCENE IV. The Foreft.

[Exeunt.

Enter Rofalind in Boy's cloaths for Ganimed, Celia dreft like a Shepherdefs for Aliena, and Clown.

Rof. Jupiter, how weary are my fpirits!

Clo. I care not for my fpirits, 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 veffel, as doublet and hofe ought to fhow it felf 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

you; yet I fhould bear no cross if I did bear you;
think you have no mony in your purfe.
Rof. Well, this is the foreft of Arden.

25 for

Clo. Ay, now I am in Arden, the more fool I; when I was at home, I was in a better place; but travellers mug

be content.

1

Rof. Ay, be fo, good Touchstone; 'look you who comes here; a young man and an old in folemn talk,

Enter Corin and Sylvius.

Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you ftill.
Syl. O Corin, that thou knew'ft how I do love her!
Cor. I partly guefs; for I have lov'd ere now.
Syl. No, Corin, being old thou can'st 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 moft ridiculous

Haft thou been drawn to by thy fantafie?

Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten,
Syl. Oh, thou didst then ne'er love fo heartily;
If thou remember'st not the slightest 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 thy hearer in thy miftrefs' praife,
Thou haft not lov'd. 1

Or if thou haft not broke from company.
Abruptly as my paffion now makes me,
Thou haft not lov'd.

QPbebe, Phebe, Phebe!

Rof. Alas poor fhepherd! fearching of thy wound, I have by hard adventure found my own.

Clo. And I mine; I remember, when I was in love, broke my fword upon a ftone, and bid him take that for coming a-nights to Jane Smile; and I remember the kif fing of her batlet, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember the wooing of a peafood inftead of her, from whom I took two cods, and giving her them again, faid with weeping tears, wear thefe for my fake VOL. III.

C

We

We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but 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 ware of mine own wit, 'till I break my fhins against it.

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

Cle. And mine; but it grows fomething stale with me, Cel. I pray you, one of you queftion 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.

Cor. Elfe they're very wretched.

Rof. Peace, fool, 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 opprefs'd,
And faints for fuccour.

Cor. Fair Sir, I pity her,

And wifh, for her fake more than for mine own,
My fortunes were more able to relieve her ;
But I am fhepherd to another man,

And do not fheer 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 reafon of his abfence, there is nothing
That you will feed on ; but what is come fee,
And in my voice most welcome fhall you be.

i

Rof. What is he that fhall buy his flock and pasture? 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,