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

you;'

Orla. Oh! good old man, how well in thee appears
The conftant fervice 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 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 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 seventeen years 'till now almost fourscore
Here lived I, but now live here no more.
At seventeen years Many their fortunes feek;
But at fourscore, it is too late a week;

Yet fortune cannot recompence me better
Than to die well, and not my mafter's debtor. [Exe.

Changes to the FOREST of Arden.

Enter Rofalind in Boy's cloaths for Ganimed, Celia dreft like a Shepherdess for Aliena, and Clown. Rof.*Jupiter! how weary are my spirits?

Clo. I care not for my fpirits, if my legs

were not weary.

It

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

Rof.

317

Rof. I could find in my heart to difgrace my man's apparel, and cry like a woman; but I muft 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 cannot go no further.

Clo. For my part, I had rather bear with you, than bear you; yet I fhould 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. 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! Corin. I partly guefs; for I have lov'd ere now. Sil. 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 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 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 the hearer in thy mistress praise, Thou haft not lov'd.

• Or if thou haft not broke from company

6

Abruptly,

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 stone, 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 peafcod inftead "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 "ftrange capers; but as 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 Shepherd's paffion is much upon my fashion,

Clo. And mine; but it grows fomething ftale 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 kinfman.
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, shepherd, if that love or gold
Can in this defart place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may rest our felves, and feed;
Here's a young maid with travel much opprefs'd,
And faints for fuccour.

Cor.

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 Shepherd to another man,
And do not sheer the fleeces that I graze;
My mafter is of churlish difpofition,
And little wreaks to find the way to heav'n
By doing deeds of hospitality:

Befides, his Coate, his flocks, and bounds of feed
Are now on fale, and at our fheep-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 shall buy his flock and pasture?

Cor. That young fwain, that you saw 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 fhalt 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. 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.

Changes to a defart Part of the FOREST.

Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others.

SONG.

Under the green-wood tree,

Who loves to lye with me,

And

And tune his merry note,

Unto the fweet bird's throat,

Come hither, come hither, come hither:

Here fhall be fee

No enemy,

But winter and rough weather.

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

Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monfieur Jaques.

Faq. 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.

faq. "I do not defire you to please me, I do de"fire you to fing;" come, come, another ftanzo; call you 'em ftanzo'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 requeft, 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 fong, Sirs; cover the while; the Duke will dine under this tree; he hath been all this day to look you.

Faq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too difputable for my company; I think of as many matters as he, but I give heav'n thanks, and make no boaft of them. Come, warble, come.

VOL. II.

Y

SONG