Your praise is corne too swiftly home before

you.

Know you not, inaster, to some kind of men
Their graces serve them but as enemies?
No more do your's; your virtues, gentle mas-
ter,

Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.

Oh! what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it ?

Orl. 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 son-
Yet not the son;-I will not call him son-
Of him I was about to call his father,)-
Hath heard your praises; and this night

he

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

Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?

Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here.

Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food?

Or, with a base and boisterous sword, en

lame,

And unregarded age in corners thrown;
Take that and He that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;
All this I give you: Let me be your servant :
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty;
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo
The meaus of weakness and debility;
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly let me go with you;
I'll do the service of a younger man
In all your business and necessities.

lie

SCENE IV. The forest of Arden.

Enter ROSALIND in Boy's clothes; CELTA dressed like a Shepherdess, and Touch

STONE.

Ros. O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits! Touch. 1. care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.

Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel, and to cry like a woman: but i must comfort the weaker vessel, as doablet and hose ought to show itself courageons to petticoat: therefore, courage, good Aliena.

Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I can go no further.

Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you, than bear you: yet I should bear no cross, if I did bear you; for, I think, you have no money in your purse.

Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden. Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden: the more fool 1; when I was at home, I was in a better place; but travellers must be content.

Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone:-Look yos, who comes here; a young man, and an old, in solemu talk.

guess;

Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover
As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow:
But if thy love were ever like to mine,
(As sure I think did never man love so,)
How many actions most ridiculous
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy!

Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
Sil. Oh! thou didst then ne'er love so beartly:
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into,
Thou hast not lov'd:

Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,
Thou hast not lov'd:

Or if thou hast not broke from company,
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not lov'd: O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!
[Exit SILVIUS.
Ros. Alas! poor shepherd! searching of thy

wound,

pears

The constant service of the antique world,
When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweat, but for promotion;
And having that, do choke their service up
Even with the having: it is not so with thee.
But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten
tree,

That cannot so much as a blossom 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 some settled low content.

Adam. Master, go on; and I will follow

and bid him take that for coming anight Jane Smile and I remember the kissing of her batlet, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopp'd hands had milk'd: and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her; from whom I took two cods, and, giving her them again, said with weeping tears, Wear these for my sake. We, that are true lovers, run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.

Ros. Thou speak'st wiser, than thou art 'ware

of.

Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be 'ware of mine own wit, till I break my shins against it. Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion is much upon my fashion.

Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale with me.

Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond”

Ros. Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman.
Cor. Who calls?

Touch. Your betters, Sir.

Cor. Else are they very wretched.
Ros. Peace, I say ;-

Good even to you, friend.

Cor. And to you, gentle Sir, and to you all. Ros. I pr'ythee, shepherd, if that love, or gold, Can in this desert place buy entertainment, Bring us where we may rest ourselves, and teed: Here's a young maid with travel much op. press'd,

And faints for succour.

Cor. Fair Sir, I pity her,

And wish, for her sake, 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 master is of churlish disposition,

And little recks to find the way to heaven
By doing deeds of hospitality :

Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed,
Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now,
By reason of his absence, there is nothing
That you will feed on: but what is, come see,
And in my voice, most welcome shall you be.
Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and
pasture?

Cor. That young swain that you saw here but

erewhile,

That little cares for buying any thing.

Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, And thou shalt 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. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold:
Go with me; if you like, upon report,
The soil, the profit, and this kind of life,
I will your very faithful feeder be,
And buy it with your gold right suddenly.

SCENE V.-The same.

[Exeunt.

Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and others.

SONG.

Ami. Under the greenwood tree,
Who loves to lie with me,
And tune his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither;
Here shall he see

No enemy,

But winter and rough weather. Jaq. More, more, I pr'ythee, more. Anii. It will make you melancholy, monsieur Jaques.

Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel sucks eggs: More, I pr'ythee, more.

Ami. My voice is ragged; I know, I caunot please you.

Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire you to sing: Come, niore; another stanza; Call you them stanzas ?

Ami. What you will, monsieur Jaques. Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing: Will you sing?

Ami. More at your request, than to please myself.

Juq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you: but that they call compliment, is like the encounter of two dog-apes: and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks, I have given him a penny, and be renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will not hold your tongues.

Ami. Well, I'll end the song.-Sirs, cover the while; the duke will drink under this tree :-he hath been all this day to look you.

Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too disputable for my company: I think of as many matters as he; but I give beaven thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come.

SONG.

Who doth ambition shun, [All together bere. And loves to live i'the sun,

Seeking the food he eats,

And pleas'd with what he gets,

Come hither, come hither, come hither ;
Here shall he see

No enemy,

But winter and rough weather.

Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I
made yesterday in despite of my invention.
Ami. And I'll sing it.
Jaq. Thus it goes:

If it do come to pass,
That any man turn ass,
Leaving his wealth and ease,
A stubborn will to please,
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame; †
Here shall he see,

Gross fools as he,

An if he will come to Ami.

Ami. What's that ducdame?

Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools in. to a circle. I'll go sleep if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt. Ami. And I'll go seek the duke; his banquet is prepar'd. [Exeunt severally.

SCENE VI.-The same

Enter ORLANDO and ADAM.

Adam. Dear master, I can go no further: oh! I die for food! Here lie down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master.

Orl. Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little: If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, I will either be food for it, or bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers. For my sake, be comfortable; hold death awhile at the arm's end: I'll here be with thee presently; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I'll give thee leave to die; but if thou diest before I come, thou art a inocker of my labour. Well said! thou look'st cheerly and I'll be with thee quickly.-Yet thou liest in the bleak air: Come, I will bear thee to some shelter; and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! [Exeunt.

• Disputatious.

+ A word coined for the nonce. Made up of discords.

That your poor friends must woo your company?

What! you look merrily.

Jaq. A fool, a fool!—I met a fool forest,

A motley fool;-a miserable world!-
As I do live by food, I met a fool;
Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun,
And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.
Good-morrow fool, quoth 1: No, Sir, quoth be,
Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me
fortune:

And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock:

Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags:

'Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine;
And after an hour more, 'twill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe.
And then, from hour to hour we rot, and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep contemplative;
And I did laugh, sans intermision,

An hour by his dial.-O noble fool!

A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.
Duke S. What fool is this?

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

And says, if ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,

Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit

After a voyage,-he bath strange places cramm'd
With observation, the which he vents

In mangled forms :-Oh! that I were a fool!
I am ambitious for a motley coat.

Duke S. Thou shalt bave one.

Jaq. It is my only suit;

Provided that you weed your better judgmeuts
Of all opinion that grows rank in them,
That I am wise. I must have liberty
Withal, as large a charter as the wind,

To blow on whom I please; for so fools have:
And they that are most galled with my folly,
They most must laugh: And, why, Sir, must

they so?

The why is plain as way to parish church:
He, that a fool doth very wisely hit,
Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not,
The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd

Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool.
Invest me in my motley; give me leave
To speak my mind, and I will through and
through

Cleanse the foul body of the infected world,
If they will patiently receive my medicine
Duke S. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou
would'st do.

Jaq. What for a counter, would I do, but

good?

Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chid-
ing sin:

For thou thyself hast been a libertine,
As sensual as the brutish sting itself;
And all the embossed sores, and headed evils,
That thou with license of free foot hast caught,
Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.

Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride,
That can therein tax any private party?
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,
Till that the very very means do ebb?
What woman in the city do I name,
When that I say, The city-woman bears
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders ?
Who can come in, and say, that I mean her,
When such a one as she, such is her neigh.

bour?

• The fool was anciently dressed in a party-coloured coat.

My tongue bath wrong'd him: if it de bim right Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free, Why then, my taxing like a wild goose fe Unclaim'd of any man.-but who comes in!

Enter ORLANDO, with his sword dress
Orl. Forbear, and eat no more.
Jaq. Why, I have eat none yet.
Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be sevd
Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come a
Duke S. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, in my
distress ;

Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
That in civility thou seem'st so empty!
Orl. You touch'd my vein at first; the thr

point

pray yon:

Pardon me, 1

days;

while,

ger,

good confort!

happy:

Ros. Peace, you dull fool; I found them an a tree.

wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation: Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd. Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone: those, that are good manners at the court, are as ridiculous in the country, as the behaviour of the country is most mockable at the court. You told me, you salute not at the court, but you kiss your hands; that courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds.

Touch. Instance, briefly; come, instance. Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes ; and their fells, you know, are greasy. Touch. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? and is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow a better instance, I say; come.

Cor. Besides, our hands are hard. Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow, again: A more sounder instance, come.

Cor. And they are often tarr'd over with the surgery of our sheep; And would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's hands are perfumed with civet.

Touch. Most shallow man! Thou wormsmeat, in respect of a good piece of flesh: Indeed!-Learn of the wise, and prepend: Civet is of a baser birth than tar: the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd.

Cor. you have too courtly a wit for me; I'll

rest.

Touch. Wilt thou rest damu'd? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art raw.*

Cor. Sir, I am a true labourer; I earn that I eat, get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness; glad of other men's good, content with my harm: and the greatest of my pride is, to see my ewes graze, and my lambs suck.

Touch. That's another simple sin in yon; to bring the ewes and the rams together, and to offer to get your living by the copulation of cattle to be bawd to a bell-wether; and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to a crooked-pated, old cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou be'st not damn'd for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how thou shouldst 'scape.

Cor. Here comes young master Ganymede, my new mistress' brother.

Enter ROSALIND, reading a paper. Ros. From the east to western Ind, No jewel is like Rosalind. Her worth, being mounted on the wind, Through all the world bears Rosalind. All the pictures, fairest lin❜d, † Are but black to Rosalind. Let no face be kept in mind, But the fair of Rosalind.

Touch. For a taste :-

If a hart do lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalind.
If the cat will after kind,
So, be sure, will Rosalind.
Winter-garments must be lin'd,
So must slender Rosalind.

They that reap, must sheaf and bind;
Then to cart with Rosalind.
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,
Such a nut is Rosalind.

He that sweetest rose will find, Must find love's prick, and Rosalind. This is the very false gallop of verses; Why do you infect yourself with them.

• Inexperienced. + Delineated. t Complexion. I

Touch. Truly the tree yields bad fruit. Ros. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medlar; Then it will be the earliest fruit in the country: for you'll be rotten e'er you be half ripe, and that's the right vIITUN of the mediar.

Touch. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge.

Enter CELIA, reading a paper.
Ros. Peace!

Here comes my sister reading; stand aside.

Cel. Why should this desert silent be?
For it is unpeopled! No;
Tongues I'll hang on every tree,
That shall civil sayings show,
Some, how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage;
That the stretching of a spar
Buckles in his sum of age.
Some, of violated vous

'Twixt the souls of friend and friend; But upon the fairest boughs,

Or at every sentence' end,
Will I Rosalinda write;

Teaching all that read, to know
The quintessence of every sprite
Heaven would in little show.
Therefore heaven nature charg'd
That one body should be fill'd
With all graces wide enlarg'd:
Nature presently distill'd
Helen's cheek, but not her heart;
Cleopatra's majesty;
Atalanta's better part;

Sad Lucretia's modesty.
Thus Rosalind of many parts

By heavenly synod was deris'd;
Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,
To have the touches dearest prize.
Heaven would that she these gķis
should have,

And I to live and die her slave.

Ros. O most gentle Jupiter !-what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried, Hate patience, good people!

Cel. How now! back friends ;-Shepherd, go off a little :-go with him, sirrab.

Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage.

[Exeunt CORIN and TOUCHSTONE Cel. Didst thou hear these verses ? Ros. O yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear.

Cel. That's no matter; the feet might bear the verses.

Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse.

Cel. But didst thou hear, without wondering, how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these trees?

Ros. I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder, before you came; for look here what I found on a palm-tree: I was never so berhymed since Pythagoras' time, that I was 20 Irish rat, which I can hardly remember.

Cel. Trow yon, who hath done this?
Ros. Is it a man?

Cel. And a chain that you once wore, about his neck: Change you colour ?

Ros. I pr'ythee, who?