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No, let my father feek another heir.
Cel. To feek my uncle in the forest of Arden.
Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
Rof. Wer't not better,
Becaufe that I am more than common tall,
Gel. What fhall I call thee when thou art a man? Kof. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page; And therefore look you call me Ganymede. But what will you be call'd?
Gel. Something that hath a reference to my ftate: No longer Celia, but Aliena..
Rof. But, coufin, what if we affaid to steal The clownish fool out of your father's court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel?
Gel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me.
Enter Duke fenior, Amiens, and two or three Lords like
Duke fenior. TOW, my co-mates, and brothers in
• Hath not old cuftom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? are not thefe woods• More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
• The season's difference; as, the icy phang,
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind;
• Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Ami. I would not change it; happy is your Grace,
Duke fen. Come, shall we go, and kill us venifon!
Should, in their own confines, with forked heads -
1 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. 1
To-day my Lord of Amiens, and myself,
Did steal behind him as he lay along
Under an oak, whofe antique root peeps out
That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,
Duke fen. But what faid Jaques ?
1 Lord. yes, into a thoufand fimilies. Firft, for his weeping in the needlefs itream; Poor Deer, quoth he, thou mak’st 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 pafture, jumps along by him, And never itays to greet him: Ay, quoth Jaques, Sweep on, you fat and greafy citizens, 'Tis juit the fashion wherefore do you look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there? Thus most invectively he pierceth through The body of the country, city, court, Yea, and of this our life; fwearing, that we Are mere 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 thefe fullen fits.
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 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.
2 Lord. My Lord, the roynith clown at whom so oft Your Grace was wont to laugh, is alfo miffing: Hefperia, the Princefs' gentlewoman, Confeffes, that fhe fecretly o'erheard Your daughter and her coufin 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 thefe foolish runaways.
SCENE III. Changes to Oliver's houfe.
Enter Orlando and Adam.
Orla. Who's there?
Adam. What! my young mafter? oh, my gentle master, Oh, my fweet master, O you memory
Of old Sir Rowland! why, what make you here?
No more do your's; your virtues, gentle Mafter,
Orla. Why, what's the matter?
Come not within thefe doors; within this roof
Your brother-(no; no brother; yet the fon,-
Of him I was about to call his father),
Orla. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst 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 sword enforce [food? A thievith 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
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 foster-nurfe • 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 fervant; Though 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 unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility;