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.

Rof. Peace, I say; good even to you, friend.
Cor. And to you, gentle Sir, and to you all.
Rof. I pr'ythee, shepherd, if that love or gold

| Can in this defert place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may rest ourselves, 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 a Shepherd to another man,
And do not sheer the fleeces that I graze;
My mafter is of churlish disposition,
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 absence, 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 shall buy his flock and pasture!
Cor. That young swain, that you faw here but ere while,

That little cares for burying 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. Afsuredly the thing is to be fold;
VOL. II.

N

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 suddenly.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to a defert Part of the FOREST.

Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others.

SONG.

Under the green wood tree,

Who loves to lie with me,

And tune his merry note,

Unto the sweet bird's throat,

Come hither, come bither, come hither :

Hore shall be fee

No enemy,

But winter and rough weather.

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

Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monfieur Jaques. Jaq. I thank it; more, I pr'ythee, more; I can 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 you to fing; come, come, another stanzo; call you 'em stanzo'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 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, fing; 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.

SONG.

Who doth ambition soun,

And loves to lie i'th' Sun,
Seeking the food be eats,

And pleas'd with what he gets;

Come bither, come hither, come hither

Here shall be fee

No enemy,

But winter and rough weather.

Faq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I made

yesterday in despight of my invention. Ami. And I'll fing it.

Jaq. Thus it goes.

If it do come to pass,
That any man turn afs;
Leaving his wealth and east
A ftubborn will to please,
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame
Here shall be fee
Gross fools as he,

An' if he will come to me.

Ami. What's that ducdame ?

Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. I'll go to sleep if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail against all the first born of Eypt.

Ami. And I'll go seek the Duke: his banquet is prepar'd.

[Exeunt, jeverally.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

Adam. Dear master, I can go no further; O, I die

for food! here lie I down, and measure out my grave Farewel, kind master.

Orla. Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth foreft yield any thing savage, I will either be food for it, or bring it for food to thee: thy conceit is nearer death, than thy powers. For my fake be comfortable, hold death a while at the arm's end: I will be here with thee presently, and if I bring thee not something to eat, I'll give thee leave to die. But if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well faid, thou look'ft cheerly. And I'll be with thee quickly; yet thou lieft in the bleak air. Come, I will bear thee to fome shelter, and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this defert. Cheerly, good Adam. [Exeunt.

Enter Duke Sen. and Lords.

[A Table set out.

Duke Sen. I think, he is transform'd into a beaft, For I can no where find him like a man.

1 Lord. My Lord he is but even now gone hence: Here was he merry, hearing of a fong.

Duke Sen. If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
We shall have shortly difcord in the fpheres :
Go, seek him; tell him, I would speak with him.

Enter Jaques.

1. Lord. He faves my labour by his own approach. Duke Sen. Why, how now, Monfieur, what a life is this?

That your poor friends must woo your company ?
What! you look merrily.

Jaq. A fool, a fool;- I met a fool i'th' forest,
A motley fool; a miferable world!
As I do live by food, I met a fool,
Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun,
And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms,
In good fet terms, and yet a motley fool.

Good-morrow, fool, quoth I: No, Sir, quoth he,

Call

Call me not fool, 'till heaven hath fent me fortune;
And then he drew a dial from his poak,
And looking on it with lack luftre eye,

Says, very wifely, it is ten a clock:

Thus may we fee, quoth he, how the world wags:

'Tis but an hour ago fince it was nine,
And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;
And fo from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,
And then from hour to hour we rot and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep contemplative:
And I did laugh, sans intermiffion,
An hour by his dial. O noble fool,
A worthy fool! motley's the only wear.
Duke Sen. What fool is this?

Jaq. O worthy fool! one that hath been a Courtier,
And says, if ladies be but young and fair,
They have the gift to know it and in his brain,
Which is as dry as the remainder bisket
After a voyage, he hath strange places cram'd
With observation, the which he vents
In mangled forms. O that I were a fool!
I am ambitious for a motley coat.

Duke Sen. Thou shalt have one.
Jaq. It is my only fuit;

Provided, that you weed your better judgments
Of all opinion, that grows rank in them,
That I am wife. I must have liberty
Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please; for fo fools have;
And they that are most galled with my folly,
They most must laugh and why, Sir, must they so?
The why is plain, as way to parish church;
(6) He, whom a fool doth very wisely hit,

Doth

Seem