Rof. Oft have I heard of you, my Lord Biron,
Before I faw you; and the world's large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks;
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts;
Which you on all eftates will execute,
That lie within the mercy of your

wit :

To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain,
And therewithal to win me, if you please,

(Without the which I am not to be won);

You fhall this twelve-month term from day to day
Vifit the fpeechlefs fick, and ftill converfe
With groning wretches; and your task shall be,
With all the fierce endeavour of your wit,

T'enforce the pained impotent to fmile.

Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death? It cannot be, it is impoffible:

Mirth cannot move a foul in agony.

Rof. Why, that's the way to choak a gibing spirit,
Whofe influence is begot of that loofe grace,
Which fhallow laughing hearers give to fools:
A jeft's profperity lies in the ear

Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if fickly ears,
Deaft with the clamours of their own dear groans,
Will hear your idle fcorns; continue then,
And I will have you, and that fault withal :
But if they will not, throw away that spirit;
And I fhall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your reformation.

Biron. A twelvemonth? well; befal, what will befal,

I'll jeft a twelvemonth in an hofpital.

Prin. Ay, fweet my Lord, and so I take my leave.

[To the King.

King. No, Madam ; we will bring you on your

way.

Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old play;

Jack hath not Jill; thefe ladies' courtesy

Might well have made our sport a comedy.

King. Come, Sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day,

And then 'twill end.

Biron. That's too long for a play.

Enter Armado.

Arm. Sweet Majefty, vouchfafe me-
Prin. Was not that Hector?

Dum. That worthy knight of Troy.

Arm. I will kifs thy royal finger, and take leave. I am a votary: I have vow'd to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her fweet love three years. But, moftefteem'd Greatnefs, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckow? it fhould have follow'd in the end of our fhow.

King. Call them forth quickly, we will do fo.
Arm. Holla! approach.

Enter all, for the fong.

This fide is Hiems, winter.

This Ver, the fpring: The one maintain'd by the owl,

The other by the cuckow.

Ver, begin.

The

SONG.

SPRING.

When daizies pied, and violets blue,
And lady-fmocks all filver-white,
And cuckow-buds of yellow hue,

Do paint the meadows much-bedight;
The cuckow then on every tree
Mocks married men; for thus fings he,
Cuckow!

Cuckow! cuckow! O word of fear,
Unpleafing to a married ear!
When Shepherds pipe on oaten ftraws,

And merry larks are ploughmens' clocks:
When turtles tread, and rooks and daws;
And maidens bleach their fummer-fmocks ;
The cuckow then on every tree

Mocks married men ; for thus fings he,
Cuckow!

Cuckow! cuckow! O word of fear,
Unpleafing to a married ear!

WINTER.

When icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the Shepherd blows his nail;
And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail;
When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,
Then nightly fings the ftaring owl,
Tu-whit! to-whoo!

A merry note,

While greafy Fone doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parfon's farw ;
And birds fit brooding in the fnow,
And Marian's nofe looks red and raw;
When roafted crabs hifs in the bowl,
Then nightly fings the staring owl,
Tu-whit! to-whoo!

A merry note,

While greafy Jone doth keel the pot.

Arm. The words of Mercury

Are harsh after the fongs of Apollo:
You, that way; we, this way.

[Exeunt omnes:

The SCENE lies, first, near Oliver's house; and, afterwards, partly, in the Duke's court, and partly in the foreft of Arden.

Orla.

ACT I. SCENE I.

A

Oliver's orchard.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

SI remember, Adam,. it was upon this my father bequeath'd me by will but a poor thousand crowns; and, as thou Jay'ft, charged my brother on his bleffing to breed me well; and there begins my fadnefs. My Brother Jaques he keeps at fchool, and report fpeaks goldenly of his profit; for my part, he keeps me ruftically at home; or, to fpeak more properly, ftys me here at home, unkept; for call you that keeping for a gentle-" VOL. II. T

man of my birth, that differs not from the ftalling of an ox? His horfes are bred better; for befides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired: but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Befides this nothing that he fo plentifully gives me, the fomething that nature gave me, his difcountenance feems to take from me. lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the fpirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny againft this fervitude. I will no longer. endure it, tho' yet I know no wife remedy how to avoid it.

SCENE II. Enter Oliver.

He

Adam. Yonder comes my mafter, your brother. Orla. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up.

Oli. Now, Sir, what make you here ?

Orla. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing. Oli. What mar you then, Sir?

Orla. Marry, Sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made; a poor unworthy brother of your's, with idleness.

Oli. Marry, Sir, be better employ'd, and be nought a while.

Orla. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat hufks with them? What prodigal's portion have I spent, that I fhould come to fuch penury?

Qli. Know you where you are, Sir!

Orla. O, Sir, very well; here in your orchard.
Oli. Know you before whom, Sir?

Orla. Ay, better than he I am before, knows me. I know, you are my eldeft brother; and, in the gentle condition of blood, you should fo know me: the courtefy of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first-born; but the fame tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us.

I