ACT II. SCENE I

A FOREST.

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

N

DUKE Senior.

OW my co-mates, and brothers in exile,

• Hath not old cuftom 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 not the penalty of Adam, The feafon's difference, as the icie phang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, ‹ Which when it bites and blows upon my body, 'Even 'till I fhrink 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 publick haunt,

'Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.

Ami. I would not change it; happy is your Grace That can tranflate the ftubbornness of fortune

Into fo quiet and fo fweet a ftyle.

Duke Sen. Come, fhall we go and kill us venison ? And yet it irks poor dappled fools,

it irks me, the

Being native burghers of this defart city,

Should, in their own confines, with forked heads
Have their round haunches goar'd.

1 Lord. Indeed, my Lord,

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

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

I Lord. O yes, into a thousand fimilies.
First, for his weeping in the needless stream;
Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak'st a testament
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 flux of company: anon a careless herd,
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him,

Cc 2

And

And never stays to greet him: ay, quoth Jaques,
Sweep on, you fat and greazy citizens,
'Tis just the fashion; wherefore do you look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?
Thus moft invectively he pierceth through
The body of the country, city, court,
Yea and of this our life, fwearing that we
Are meer 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 contemplation? 2 Lord. We did, my Lord, weeping and commenting Upon the fobbing deer.

Duke Sen. Show me the place;

I love to cope him in these fullen fits,

For then he's full of matter.

2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight.

SCENE II.

The PALACE again.

Enter Duke Frederick with Lords.

Duke. It cannot be; fome villains of my court
C

An it be poffible that no man faw them?

Are of consent and fufferance in this.

I 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 untreafur'd of their mistress.

[Exeunt.

2 Lord. My lord, the roynifh clown, at whom so oft Your Grace was wont to laugh, is alfo miffing: Hifperia, the princefs' gentlewoman,

Confeffes

Confeffes that the fecretly 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 the believes, where-ever they are gone,
That youth is furely in their company.

Duke. Send to his brother, fetch that gallant hither;
If he be abfent, bring his brother to me,
I'll make him find him; do this fuddenly,
And let not fearch and inquifition quail
To bring again these foolish runaways.

Orla.

W

SCENE III.

OLIVER'S Houfe.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

Ho's there?

[Exeunt.

[master,

Adam. What my young master? oh my gentle Oh my sweet mafter, 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, ftrong, and valiant ?
Why would you be fo fond to overcome
The bonny priser of the humorous Duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not, mafter, to fome kind of men
Their graces serve 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

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 fon, I will not call him son,
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,
And you within it; if he fail of that,
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 thievish 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, 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 ftore, to be my foster nurse

'When service 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,
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