Rof. I have more cause.

Cel. Thou hast not, coufin;

Pr'ythee, be cheerful; know'st thou not, the Duke

Has banish'd me his daughter ?

Rof. That he hath not.

Cel. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love,
Which teacheth me that thou and I am one:
Shall we be fundred? shall we part, sweet Girl?
No, let my father seek another heir.
Therefore devise with me, how we may fly;
Whither to go, and what to bear with us;
And do not seek to take your charge upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out:
For by this heav'n, now at our forrows pale,
Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee.
Rof. Why, whither shall we go?
Cel. To feek my Uncle in the forest of Arden.
Rof. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
And with a kind of umber smirch my face;
The like do you; so shall we pass along,
And never ftir afsailants.

Rof. Were't not better,
Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did fuit me all points like a man?
A gallant Curtle-ax upon my thigh,
A boar-fpear in my hand, and (in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will)
We'll have a swashing and a martial outside,
As many other mannish Cowards have,
That do outface it with their semblances.

Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a man?
Rof. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own

Page;

And therefore, look, you call me Ganimed;
But what will you be call'd ?

Cel.

1

Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state: No longer Celia, but Aliena.

Rof. But, Coufin, what if we assaid to steal The clownish Fool out of your father's Court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel?

Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me. Leave me alone to woo him; let's away, And get our jewels and our wealth together; Devise the fittest time, and safeft way To hide us from pursuit that will be made After my flight: now go we in content To Liberty, and not to Banishment.

1

[Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I.

Arden FOREST.

Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and two or three. Lords like

N

Foresters.

DUKE Senior.

OW, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than That of painted Pomp? are not these woods More free from peril, than the envious Court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The Seafons' difference; as, the icy phang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind; Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Even 'till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, This is no Flattery: these are Counsellors, That feelingly perfuade me what I am, Sweet are the uses of Adversity, Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head: And this our life, exempt from public haunt,

Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks Sermons in ftones, and good in every thing."

Ami. I would not change it; happy is your Grace, That can tranflate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style.

Duke Sen. Come, shall we go and kill us venifon? And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools, Being native burghers of this desart city, Should, in their Confines, with forked heads

Have their round haunches goar'd.

:

I Lord. Indeed, my Lord,
The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;
And in that kind swears you do more ufurp
Than doth your brother, that hath banish'd you:
To-day my Lord of Amiens, and myself,
Did steal behind him, as he lay along
Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood;
To the which place a poor sequestred stag,
That from the hunters' aim had ta'en a hurt,
Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord,
The wretched Animal heav'd forth such groans
That their difcharge did ftretch his leathern coat
Almoft to burfting; and the big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.

Duke Sen. But what faid Jaques?
Did he not moralize this spectacle?

1 Lord. O yes, into a thousand fimilies. First, for his weeping in the needless stream; Poor Deer, quoth he, thou mak'st a teftament As worldlings do, giving thy fum of more To that which had too much. Then being alone, Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends;

'Tis right, quoth he, thus mifery doth part

The

The flux of company: anon a careless herd,
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him,
And never stays to greet him: ay, quoth Jaques,
Sweep on, you fat and greafy citizens,
'Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?
Thus most invectively he pierceth through
The body of the Country, City, Court,
Yea, and of this our life; fwearing, that we
Are mere ufurpers, tyrants, and what's worse,
To fright the animals, and to kill them up
In their affign'd and native dwelling place.

Duke Sen. And did you leave him in this contem.

plation?

2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and comment.

ing

Upon the sobbing deer.

Duke Sen. Show me the place;

I love to cope him in these sullen fits.
For then he's full of matter.

2 Lord. I'll bring you to him ftraight,

Duke.

SCENE

[Exeunt.

II.

Changes to the PALACE again.

Enter Duke Frederick with Lords.

CAN t

be poffible, that no man faw them? It cannot be; fome villains of my Court

Are of consent and fufferance in this.

1 Lord. I cannot hear of any that did fee her.
The ladies, her attendants of her chamber,
Saw her a-bed, and in the morning early
They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress.

2 Lord. My Lord, the roynish Clown at whom fo

oft

Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing:
Hesperia, the Princess' Gentlewoman,

Confefses

Confesses, that she secretly o'er-heard
Your Daughter and her Cousin much commend
The parts and graces of the Wrestler,
That did but lately foil the finewy Charles;
And she believes, where ever they are gone,
That Youth is surely in their company.

Duke. Send to his brother, fetch that Gallant hither:
If he be absent, bring his brother to me,
I'll make him find him; do this suddenly;
And let not Search and Inquifition quail
To bring again these foolish runaways.

Orla.

SCENE

III.

Changes to OLIVER'S House.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

WHO's there?

[Exeunt.

Adam. What! my young master? oh,

my gentle master,

Oh, my sweet master, O you memory

Of old Sir Rowland! why, what make you here?
Why are you virtuous? why do people love you?
And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant?
Why would you be fo fond to overcome
The boney Priser of the humorous Duke?
Your Praife is come too fwiftly home before you.
Know you not, master, to some kind of men
Their graces ferve them but as enemies ?
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 these doors; within this roof
The enemy of all your graces lives:

Your brother-(no; no brother; yet the fon,

Yet