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nothing; only in the world I fill up a place, 1 Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon which may be better supplied when I have made

my tongue ? it empty.

I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you.

Re-enter Le Beau. Cel. And mine, to eke out hers.

O poor Orlando I thou art overthrown; Ros. Fare you well. 'Pray heaven, I be de- Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee. ceived in you!

Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel Cel. Your heart's desires be with you.

you Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that To leave this place: Albeit you have deserv'd is so desirous to lie with his mother earth ? High commendation, true applause, and love; Orh Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more Yet such is now the duke's condition, modest working.

That he misconstrues all that you have done, Duke F. You shall try but one fall.

The duke is humorous; what he is, indeed, Cha. No, I warrant your grace; you shall not More suits you to conceive, than me to speak of. entreat him to a second, that have so mightily Orl. I thank you, sir : and, 'pray you, tell me persuaded him from a first.

this; Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should Which of the two was daughter of the duke. Rot have mocked me before: but come your That here was at the wrestling? ways.

Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man! manners; Cel. I would I were invisible, io catch the strong But yet, indeed, the smaller is his daughter : fellow by the leg. [Cha. and Orl. wrestle The other is daughter to the banish'd duke, Ros. O excellent young man!

And here detain'd by her usurping uncle, Cel

. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can To keep his daughter company; whose loves tell who should down. (Cha. is thrown. Shout. Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. Duke F. No more, no more.

But I can tell you, that of late this duke Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace; I am not yet Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece; well breathed.

Grounded upon no other argument, Drike F. How dost thou, Charles ?

But that the people praise her for her virtues, Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord.

And pity her for her good father's sake; Duke F. Bear him away. Charles is borne And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady oul. What is thy name, young man ?

Will suddenly break forth.--Sir, fare you well; Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Hereafter, in a better world than this, Sir Rowland de Bois.

I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. Duke F. I would, thou hadst been son to some Orl. I rest much bounden to you: fare you man else.


[Exit Le Beau. The world esteem'd thy father honourable, Thus must 1 from the smoke into the smother ; But I did find bim still mine enemy :

From tyrant duke, unto a tyrant brother : Thou shouldst have better ploas'd me with this But heavenly Rosalind !

(Exit. deed,

SCENE III. A Room in the Palace. Hadst thou descended from another house. But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth;

Enter Celia and Rosalind. I would, thou hadst told me of another father. Cel Why, _cousin; wwbyz Rosalind ;-Cupid,

(Ereunt Duke Fred. Train, and Le Beau have mercy!-Not a word Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this? Ros. Not one to throw at a dog. Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son, Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast His youngest son ;-and would not change that away upon curs, throw some of them at me: calling,

come, lame me with reasons. To be adopted heir to Frederick.

Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; Ros. My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his soul, when the one should be lamed with reasons, and And all the world was of my father's mind: the other mad without any. Had I before known this young man his son, Cel. But is all this for your father ? I should have given him tears unto entreaties, Ros. No, some of it for my child's father.0, Ere he should thus have ventur'd.

how full of briars is this working-day world! Cel.

Gentle cousin, Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown apon Let us go thank him, and encourage him: thee in holiday foolery ; if we walk not in the My father's rough and envious disposition trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch Sticks me at heart.-Sir, you have well deserv'd: them. If you do keep your promises in love

Ros. I could shake them off my coat; these But justly, as you have exceeded promise, burs are in my heart. Your mistress shall be happy.

Cel. Hem them away. Ros.

Gentleman, Ros. I would try : if I could cry hem, and have (Giving him a chain from her neck. him. Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune; Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. That could give more, but that her hand lacks Ro8. O, they take the part of a better wrestler means

than myself. Snall we go, coz.

Cel. Ó, a good wish upon you! you will try Cel. Ay :-Fare you well, fair gentleman. in time, in despite of a fall. --But, turning these Orl. Can I'not say, I thank you ? My better jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest : parts

Is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall Are all thrown down; and that which here stands into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.

Ros. The duke my father lov'd his father Ros. He calls us back : my pride fell with my dearly. fortunes :

Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should I'll ask him what he would :-Did you call, sir?- love his son dearly ? By this kind of chase, I fir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown shonld hate him, for my father hated his father More than your enemies.

dearly; yet I hate not Orlando. Cel

Will you go, coz?) Ros. No, 'faith, hate him not, for my sake. Ros Have with you :-Fare yon well.

Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deservo (Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. well?

Ros. Let me love him for that; and do you Shall we be sunder'd ? shall we part, sweet girl? Jove him, because I do :-Look, here comes the No; let my father seek another heir. duke.

Therefore, devise with me, how we may fly, Cel. With his eyes full of anger.

Whither to go, and what to bear with us :

And do not seek to take your change upon you, Enter Duke Frederick, with Lords. To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out;

For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, Duke F. Mistress, despatch you with your safest Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. haste,

Ros. Why, whither shall we go? And get you from our court.

Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. Ros.

Me, uncle ?

Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us, Duke F

You, cousin ; Maids as we are, to travel forth so far ? Within these ten days, if that thou be'st found Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. So near our public court as twenty miles, Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire, Thou diest for it.

And with a kind of umber smirch my face; Ros.

I do beseech your grace, The like do you ; 80 shall we pass along,
Let me the knowledge of my fault beur with me; And never stir assailants.
If with myself I hold intelligence,


Were it not better, Or have acquaintance with mine own desires; Because that I am more than common tall, If that I do not dream, or be not frantick, That I did suit me all points like a man? (As I do trust I am not,) then, dear uncle, A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh, Never so much as in a thought unborn, A boar-spear in my hand; and (in my heart Did I offend your highness.

Lie there what hidden woman fear there will.) Duke F

Thus do all traitors; We'll have a swashing and a martial outside ; If their purgation did consist in words, As many other mannish cowards have, They are as innocent as grace itself :

That do outface it with their semblances. Let it suffice thee, that I trust thee not.

Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a man? traitor:

Ros. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's Tell me, whereon the likelihood depends.

own page, Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's And therefore, look you, call me Ganymede. enough.

But what will you be call'd ? Ros. So was I, when your highness took his Cel. Something that hath a reference to my dukedom;

state ; So was I, when your highness banish'd him : No longer Celia, but Aliena. Treason is not inherited, my lord :

Ros. But, cousin, what if we essay'd to steal Or, if we did derive it from our friends : The clownish fool out of your father's court ? What's that to me? my father was no traitor: Would he not be a comfort to our travel ? Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much, Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with To think my poverty is treacherous.

me; Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.

Leave me alone to woo him: Let's away, Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake, and get our jewels and our wealth together; Else had she with her father rang'd along. Devise the fittest time and safest way

Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay, To hide us from pursuit that will be made
It was your pleasure, and your own remorse; After my flight: Now go we in content,
I was too young that time to value her, To liberty and not to banishment. [Exeunt
But now I know her; if she be a traitor,
Why so am 1; we still have slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together:

And wheresoe'r we went, like Juno's swans,
Still we went coupled, and inseparable.

SCENE I. The Forest of Arden.
Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her

Enter Duke senior, Amiens, and other Lords, Her very silence, and her patience,

in the dress of Foresters. Speak to the people, and they pity her. Thou art a fool : she robs thee of thy name; Duke S. Now my co-mates, and brothers in And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more exile, virtuous,

Hath not old custom made this life more sweet When she is gone : then open not thy lips; Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods Firm and irrevocable is my doom

More free from peril than the envious court 3 Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd. Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my The season's difference; as, the icy fang, liege :

And churlish chiding of the winter's wind. I cannot live out of her company,

Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Duke F. You are a fool :-You, niece, provide Even till 1 shrink with cold, I smile, and

say, yourself;

This is no flattery ; these are counsellors If you out-stay the time, upon mine honour, That feelingly persuade me what I am. And in the greatness of my word, you die. Sweet are the uses of adversity;

(E.creunt Duke Frederick and Lords. Which, like the load, ugly and venomous, Cel. O my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; go?

And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Wilt thou change fathers ? I will give thee mine. Finds tongues in trees, books in the runnivg I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am. brooks, Ros. I have more cause.

Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. Cel.

Thou hast not, cousin ; Ami. I would not change it: Happy is your Pr'ythee, be cheerful : know'st thou not, the grace, duke

That can translate the stubbornness of forinne Hath banish'd me, his daughter?

Into so quiet and so sweet a style. Ros.

That he hath not. Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison; Cel. No? hath not ? Rosalind lacks then the And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools, love

Being native burghers of this desert city, Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one : Shoulil in their own confines, with forked beach



flave their round haunches gor'd. 1 Lord.

Indeed, my lord,

SCENE III. Before Oliver's House The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;

Enter Orlando and Adam, meeting. And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you. Orl. Who's there? To-day, my lord of Amiens, and myself, Adam. What! my young master 7–0, my Did steal behind him, as he lay along

gentle master,
Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out O, my sweet master, O you memory
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood : Of old Şir Rowland I'why, what make you here?
To the which place a poor sequester'd stag, Why are you virtuous ? Why do people love you?
That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and va-
Did come to languish ; and, indeed, my lord,

The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans, Why would you be so fond to overcome
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat The bony prizer of the humorous duke?
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears

Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Cours'd one another down his innocent nose Know you not, master, to some kind of men
In piteous chase, and thus the hairy fool,

Their graces serve them but as enemies? Mnich marked of the melancholy Jaques, No more do yours; your virtues, gentle master, Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. Augmenting it with tears.

o, what a world is this, when what is comely Duke s.

But what said Jaques ? Envenoms him that bears it? Did he not moralize this spectacle?

Orl. Why, what's the matter? 1 Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. Adam.

O unhappy youth,
First, for his weeping in the needless stream; Come not within these doors; within this roof
Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak'et a testament The enemy of all your graces lives :
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more Your brother--(no, no brother : yet the son

To that which had too much : Then being alone, Yet not the son ;-) will not call him son
Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends; Of him I was about to call his father,) -
'Tis right, quoth he ; this misery doth part Hath heard your praises ; and this night he
The flur of company: Anon, a careless herd,
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him, To burn the lodging where you use to lie,
And never stays to greet him; Ay, quoth Jaques, And you within it: if he fail of that,
Suup on, you fat and greasy citizens ; He will have other means to cut you off :
'Tis just the fashion: Wherefore do you look 1 overheard him, and his practices.
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there? This is no place, this house is but a butchery ;
Thuns most invectively he pierceth through Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.
The body of country, city, court,

Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have Yea, and of this our life, swearing, that we

me go? Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse, Adam. No matter whither, so you come not To fright the animals, and to kill them up, In their assign'd and native dwelling-place. Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg Duke S. And did you leave him in this con

my fool? templation ?

Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce 2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and com- A thievish living on the common road 1 menting

This I must do, or know not what to do: Upon the sobbing deer.

Yet this I will not do, do how I can; Duke S.

Show me the place ; 1 rather will subject me to the malice I love to cope him in these sullen fits,

Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother. For then he's full of matter.

Adam. But do not so: I have five hundred 2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight.

(Ereunt. The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father,

Which I did store, to be my foster-nurse, SCENE IL A Room in the Palace. When service should in my old limbs lie lame,

And unregarded age in corners thrown ; Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, and Attendants. Take that: and he that doth the ravens leed,

Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Duke F Can it be possible that no man saw Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold; them?

All this I give you : Let me be your servant ; It cannot be : some villains of my court Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty : Are of consent and suflerance in this.

For in my youth I never did apply
I Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. Hot and rebellions liquors in my blood;
The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo
Saw her a-bed: and in the morning early, The means of weakness and debility;
They found the bed untreasur'd of their mis- Therefore my age is as a Justy winter,

Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you ;
2 Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom I'll do the service of a younger man
so oft

In all your business and necessities. Yonr grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. Orl. O good old man; how well in thee appears Hesteria, the princess' gentlewoman,

The constant service of the antique world, Confesses, that she secretly o'erheard

When service swcat for duty, not for meed Your daughter and her cousin much commend Thou art not for the fashion of these times, The parts and graces of the wrestler

Where none will sweat, but for promotion ; That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ; And having that, do choke their service up And she believes, wherever they are gone, Even with the having: it is not so with thee. That yonth is surely in their company. But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree, Duke F! Send to his brother; fetch that gal. That cannot so much as a blossom yield, lant hither;

In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry : he be absent, bring his brother to me, But come thy ways, we'll go along together ; "I make him find inim: do this suddenly; And e'er we have thy youthful wages spent, And let not search and inquisition quail We'll light upon some settled low content. To bring again these foolish runaways.

Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee, (Exeunt. To the last gasp, will truth and loyalty..


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From seventeen years till now almost fourscore If he for gold will give us any food;
Here lived I, but now live here no more.

I faint almost to death.
At seventeen years many their fortunes seek ; Touch Holla; you, clown!
But at fourscore, it is too late a week;

Ros. Peace, fool: he's not thy kineman.
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better, Cor. Who calls?
Than to die well, and not iny master's debtor. Touch. Your betters, sir.

[Exeunt. Cor. Else they are very wretched.

Peace, I say
SCENE IV. The Forest of Arden.

Good even to you, friend. Enter Rosalind in boy's clothes, Celia drest like

Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. a Shepherdess, and Touchstone.

Ros. I pr'ythee, shepherd, if that love or gold,

Can in this desert place buy entertainment, Ros. O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits ! Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed : Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs Here's a young maid

with travel much oppress'd, were not weary.

And faints for succour. Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my Cor.

Fair sir, I pity her, man's apparel, and to cry like a woman: but And wish for her sake, more than for mine own, I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet My fortunes were more able to relieve her: and hose ought to show itself courageous to pet. But I am shepherd to another man, ticoat: therefore, courage, good Aliena. And do not shear the fleeces that I graze; Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no My master is of churlish disposition, further

And little recks to find the way to heaven
Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with By doing deeds of hospitality :
you, than bear you; yet I should bear no cross, Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed,
if I did bear you; for, I think, you have no Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now,
money in your purse.

By reason of his absence, there is nothing
Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden. That you will feed on : but what is, come see,

Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden: the more and in my voice most welcoine shall you be.
fool I : when I was at home, I was in a better Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and
place; but travellers must be content.

Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone:-Look you, Cor. "That young swain that you saw here but
who comes here; a young man, and an old, in erewhile,
solemn talk.

That little cares for buying any thing.

Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
Enter Corin and Silvius.

Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock,
Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.

Cel. And we will mend thy wages: I like this Sil. o Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love


And willingly could waste my time in it.
Cor. ! partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now. Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold :
Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess ; Go with me: if you like, upon report,
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover The soil, the profit, and this kind of life,
As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow: I will your very faithful feeder be,
But if thy love were ever like to mine

And buy it with your gold right suddenly. (As sure I think did never man love so,)

(Exeunt How many actions most ridiculous

SCENE V. The same.
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?
Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.

Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others.
Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily:

If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into,

Ami. Under the greenwood tree,
Thou hast not lov'd :

Who loves to lie with me,

And turn his merry note,
Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,

Unto the sweet bird's throat.
Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,
Thou hast not lov'd:

Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Or if thou hast not broke from company,

Here shall he see Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,

No enemy, Thou hast not lov'd: 0 Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!

But winter and rough weather.

[Erit Silvius. Jaq: More, more, I pr'ythee, more.
Ros. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy , Ami. It will make you melancholy, monsieur

I have by hard adventure found mine own. Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr’ythee, more. !

Touch. And I mine: I remember, when I was can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel
in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and sucks eggs: More, 1 prythee, more.
bid him take that for coming anight to Jane Ami. My voice is ragged ; 1 know, I cannot
Smile: and I remember the kissing of her bat. please you.
let, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopp'dJaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do
hands had milk'd: and I remember the wooing desire you to sing: Come, more; another stanza :
of a peascod instead of her; from whom I took Call you them stanzas ?
two cods, and, giving her them again, said, with Ami. What you will, monsieur Jaques.
weeping tears, Wear these for my sake. We, Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names; they
that are true lovers, run into strange capers ? owe me nothing: Will you sing?
but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in Ami. More at your request, than to please
love mortal in folly.

Ros. Thou speak'st wiser than thou art 'ware of. Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll

Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be 'ware of mine thank yon: but that they call compliment, is
own wit till I break my shins against it. like the encounter of two dog-apes, and when
Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion a man thanks me heartily, methinks, I have
Is much upon my fashion,

given him a penny, and he renders me the beg. Touch. And mine; but it grows something garly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will stale with me.

not, nold your tongues. Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond'rran, Ami. Well, I'll end the song -Sirs, cover the

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No enemy,

while; the duke will drink under this tree !-heA motley fool;-a miserablo world! hath been all this day to look you.

As I do live by food, I met a fool; Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. Who laid him down and bask'd him in the min, He is too disputable for my company: I think And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms, of as many matters as he; but I give heaven In good set terms, -and yet a motley fool. thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, Good-morrow, fool, quóth 1: No, sir, quoth he, warble, come.

Call me not fool, till heaven have sent me for


And then he drew a dial from his poke;
Who doth ambition shun, [All together here. And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
And loves to live i' the sun,

Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock:
Seeking the food he eats,

Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags :
And pleas'd with what he gets,

Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine: Come hither, come hither, come hither ; And after an hour more, 'twill be eleven; Here shall he see

And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,

And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot, But winter and rough weather.

And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear, Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I The motley fool thus moral on the time, made yesterday in despite of my invention.

My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, Ami. And I'll sing it.

That fools should be so deep-contemplative; Jaq. Thus it goes :

And I did laugh, sans intermission,

An hour by his dial.-0, noble fool!
If it do come to pass,
That any man turn ass,

A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.

Duke Ś. What fool is this?
Leaving his wealth and ease,
A stubborn will to please,

Jaq. O worthy fool!-One that hath been a

courtier ;
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame;
Here shall he see,

And says, if ladies be but young, and fair,
Gross fools as he,

They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,

Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit An if he will come to me.

After a voyage, -he hath strange places cramm'd Ami. What's that ducdame ?

With observation, the which he vents Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into in mangled forms:-0, that I were a fool I a circle. l'll go sleep if I can; if I cannot, l'n I arn ambitious for a motley coat. rail against all the first-born of Egypt.

Duke S. Thou shalt have one. Ami. And I'll go seek the duke; his banquet is Jaq:

It is my only suit ; prepar'd

[Exeunt severally. Provided, that you weed your better judgments SCENE VI. The same.

Of all opinion that grows rank in them,

That I am wise. I must have liberty
Enter Orlando and Adam.

Withal, as large a charter as the wind, Adam. Dear master, I can go no further: 0, To blow on whom I please; for so fools have: 1 die for food! Here lie 1 down, and measure out and they that are most galled with my folly, my grave. Farewell, kind master.

They most must laugh: And why, sir, must Orl. Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee! Live a little; comfort a little; cheer The why is plain as way to parish church: thyself a little: If this uncouth forest yield any He, that a fool doth very wisely hit, thing savage, I will either be food for it, or Doth very foolishly, although he smart, bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer Not to seem senseless of the bob: if noi, death than thy powers. For my sake, be com- The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd fortable; hold death awhile at the arm's end: Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool. I will here be with thee presently; and if i Invest me in my motley ; give me leave bring thee not something to eat, i'll give thee To speak my mind, and I will through and leave to die: but if thou diest before I come,

through thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said l Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, thou look'st cheerily: and I'll be with thee if they will patiently receive my medicine. quickly.--Yet thou liest in the bleak air ; Come, Duke S. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou I will bear thee to some shelter ; and thou shalt wouldst do. not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any

Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but good ? thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam!

Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding [Exeunt.

sin: SCENE VII. The same.

For thou thyself hast been a libertine,

As sensual as the brutish sting itselt;
A Table set out.

And all the embossed sores and headed evils, Enter Duke senior, Amiens, Lords, and others. That thou with license of free foot hast caught, Duke S. I think he be transform'd into a beast: Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. For I can no where find him like a man.

Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride,
I Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,

That can therein tax any private party?
Here was he merry, hearing of a song.

Till that the very very means do ebb? "Duke s. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, When that I say, the city-woman bears

What woman in the city do I name, We shall have shortly discord in the spheres : The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? Go, seek him ; tell him, I would speak with him. Who can come in, and say, that I mean

her, Enter Jaques.

When such a one as she, such is her neighbour 1

Or what is he of basest function, 1 Lord. He saves my labour by his own ap- That says his bravery is not on my cost, froach.

(Thinking that I mean him) but therein saits Duke 8. Why, how now, monsieur! what a His folly to the mettle of my speech? life is this,

There then; How what then? Let me see wherein That your poor friends must woo your company? My tongue bath wrong'd him: if it do him right, What! you look merrily:

Then he hath wrong 'd himself; if he be free, Jag. A fool, a fool

II met a fool i' the fo- Why then, my taxing like a wild goose flies, rest,

Unclaim'd of any man.-But who conies here?

they so?

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