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No more do yours; your virtues, gentle master;
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 fon,
Yet not the fon-I will not call him fon

Of him I was about to call his father,

Hath heard your praifes, and this night he means
To burn the lodging where you use to lie,
within it. If he fail of that,

And you within it.

He will have other means to cut you off;

I overheard him, and his practices:

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

Orla. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst 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 thievifh 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 4, 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 store, to be my fofter nurse
When fervice fhould 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 fparrow,

- diverted blood.] Blood turned out of the course of nature.


Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold,
All this I give you, let me be your fervant;
Tho' I look old, yet I am ftrong and lufty;
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
Nor did I with unbafhful 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 conftant fervice of the antique world;

When fervice sweat for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of thefe times,
Where none will sweat, but for promotion;
And, having That, do cloak their service 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 fpent,
We'll light upon fome fettled low Content.

Adam. Mafter, go on; and I will follow thee.
To the last gafp with truth and loyalty.
From feventeen years 'till now almoft fourscore
Here lived I, but now live here no more.
At feventeen 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.


5 Even with the having.] Even with the promotion gained by fervice is fervice extinguifhed,




Changes to the FOREST of Arden.

Enter Rofalind in Boys cloaths for Ganimed, Celia
dreft like a Shepherdefs for Aliena, and Touchftone
the Clown.

Rof. my
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 difgrace my man's apparel, and cry like a woman; but I muft comfort the weaker veffel, as doublet and hofe ought to fhow itfelf 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; yet I fhould bear no crofs, if I did bear you; for, I think you have no money in your purfe. 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 feorn you ftill.

"O Jupiter! how merry are my Spirits? And yet, within the Space of one intervening Line, She fays, She could find in her Heart to difgrace her Man's Apparel, and cry like a Woman. Sure, this is but a very bad Symptom of the Brifkness of Spirits:

rather a direct Proof of the contrary Difpofition. Mr. Warbur ton and I concurred in conjecturing it fhould be, as i have reformed in the Text: how weary are my Spirits? And the Clown's Reply makes this Reading certain.



Sil. O Cerin, that thou knew'ft how I do love her! Cor. I partly guefs; for I have lov'd ere now. Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guefs, Tho' in thy youth thou waft as true as 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 most ridiculous

Haft thou been drawn to by thy fantafy?

Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love fo heartily.
If thou remember'ft not the lightest 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,
Abruptly, as my paffion now makes me;
Thou haft not lov'd.

O Phebe! Phebe! Phebe!

Exit Sil.

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 peascod instead of her, from whom I took

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two cods, and giving her them again, faid with weeping tears, Wear thefe for my fake. We, that are true lovers, run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, fo is all nature in love mortal in folly.

Rof. Thou speak'st wiser, than thou art 'ware of. Clo. Nay, I fhall ne'er be aware of mine own wit, 'till I break my fhins against it.


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

Clo. And mine; but it grows fomething ftale with


Cel. I pray you, one of you queftion 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 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 pry'thee, fhepherd, if that love or gold
Can in this defert place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may reft ourselves, and feed;
Here's a young maid with travel much opprefs'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 Shepherd to another man,

*For cods it would be more like fenfe to read peas, which, hav ing the fhape of pearls, resembled the common prefents of lovers.

9 fo is all nature in love mortal in folly.] This expreffion I do not well understand. In the middle counties, mortal, from mort


a great quantity, is used as a particle of amplification; as, mortal tall, mortal little. Of this fenfe I believe Shakespeare takes advantage to produce one of his darling equivocations. Thus the meaning will be, fo is all nature in love, abounding in folly.


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