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Cel. Marry, I pr’ythee, do, to make sport withal :/ Cel. Sport? Of what colour?
but love no man in good earnest; nor no further Le Beau. What colour, madam? How shall I answer
in sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush trou you?
may'st in honour come off again.

Ros. As wit and fortune will.
Ros. What shall be our sport then?

Touch. Or as the destinies decree.
Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife, For- Cel. Well said: that was laid on with a trowel.
tune, from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,-
bestowed equally.

Ros. Thou losest thy old smell.
Ros. I would we could do so; for her benefits are Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies : I would have told
mightily misplaced: and the bountiful blind woman you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.
doth most mistake in her gifts to women.

Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. Cel. 'Tis true: for those that she makes fair, she Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning,and, if it please scarce makes honest ; and those that she makes honest, your ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is she makes very ill-favour’dly.

yet to do; and here, where you are, they are coming Ros. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's office to to perform it. nature's: fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in Cel. Well,—the beginning, that is dead and buried. the lineaments of nature.

Le Beau. There comes an old man and his three

sons,
Enter TOUCHSTONE.
Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair creature,

Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale.

Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent may she not by fortune fall into the fire?—Though

growth and presenee; -— nature hath given us wit to flout as fortune, hath not

Ros. With bills on their necks,-Be it known unto fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument?

all men by these presents, Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature; when fortune makes nature's natural the cutter off of Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Char

les, the duke's wrestler; which Charles in a moment nature's wit.

threw him, and broke three of his ribs, that there is Cel

. Peradventure, this is not fortune's work neither, little hope of life in him: so he served the second, and but nature's ; who perceiving our natural wits too dull

so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old man, their to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this natural for father, making such pitiful dole over them, that all our whetstone: for always the dulness of the fool is the beholders take his part with weeping, the whetstone of his wits.—How now, wit? whither

Kos. Alas! wander you?

Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your

father.

Jadies have lost?
Cel. Were you made the messenger?

Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of.
Touch. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come

Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day! it is

the first time that ever I heard, breaking of ribs was Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool?

sport

for ladies. Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by his honour,

Cel. Or I, I promise thee. they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour, the mustard was naught: now, I'll stand to it, the pan- music in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon

Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken eakes were naught, and the mustard was good ; and yet rib-breaking ?-Shall we see this wrestling, cousin? was not the knight forsworn.

Le Beau. You must, if you stay here : for here is Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of your the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are knowledge?

ready to perform it.
Ros. Ay, marry; now anmuzzle your wisdom!

Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay
Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and see it!
and swear by your beards, that I am a knave.
Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. Flourish. Enter Duke FREDERICK, Lords, ORLANDO,
Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were: but,

CHARLES, and Attendants.
if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn :

DukeF.Come on ; since the youth will not be entreatno more was this knight

, swearing by his honour, for ed, his own peril on his forwardness! he never had any; or, if he had, he had sworn it away,

Ros. Is yonder the man ?
before ever he saw those pancakes, or that mustard.

Le Beau. Even he, madam.
Cel. Prythee, who is't that thou mean'st?

Cel. Alas, he is too young: yet he looks successfully.
Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves.

Duke F. How now, danghter, and cousin ? are you Cel.My father's love is enough to honour him.Enough! crept hither to see the wrestling? speak no more of him; you'll be whipp'd for taxation, Ros. Ay, my liege; so please you give us leave. one of these days.

Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can tell Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak

you, there is such odds in the men. In pity of the wisely, what wise men do foolishly.

Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true: for since the little challenger's youth, I would fain dissuade him, but he wit, that fools have, was silenced, the little foolery, you can move him!

will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies ; see if that wise men have, makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau.

Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau !

Duke F. Do so; I'll not be by. [Duke goes apart.
Enter Le Beau.

Le Beau. Monsieur, the challenger, the princesses
Ros. With his mouth full of news.
Cel. Which he will put opus, as pigeors feed their Orl. I attend them, with all respect and duty.
young

Ros. Young man, have yon challenged Charles the
Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm'd.

wrestler Cel. All the better; we shall be the more marketable. Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: -Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau : what's the news? I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good of my youth. sport.

Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for

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Celi strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes, or knew Ros. Gentleman, [Giving him a chain from her neck. Ros yourself with your judgement, the fear of your adven- Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune; ture would counsel you to a more equal enterprize. That could give more, but that her hand lacks means.- Pos. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your Shall we go, coz?

Ensaf own safety, and give over this attempt. Cel. Ay. -- Fare you well, fair gentleman !

Gel. Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not there- Orl. Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts

a desp fore be misprised: we will make it our suit to the duke, Are all thrown down; and that, which here stands up, that the wrestling might not go forward. Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.

andd Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard Ros.He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes: thoughts; whereiu I confess'me much guilty, to deny I'll ask him what he would. - Did you call, sir ?so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown

(LD fair eyes, and gentle wishes, go with me to my trial : More than your enemies.

made wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed, that Cel. Will you go, coz?

ymy was never gracious; if killed, but one dead, that is Ros. Have with you. --Fare you

well!

tar willing to be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I

(Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. have none to lameut me; the world no injury, for in Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon my tou- C. it I have nothing; only in the world I fill up a place, gue! which may be better supplied, when I have made I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference.

ba it empty.

Re-enter LE Beau,

tel. Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were O poor Orlando! thon art overthrown;

Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee. Cel. And mine, to eke out her's.

Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you Ros.Fare you well! Pray heaven, I be deceived in you! To leave this place. Albeit you have deserv'd

Ro Cel. Your heart's desires be with you! High commendation, truc applause, and love,

Du Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that is so de- Yet such is now the duke's condition, sirous to lie with his mother earth?

That he misconstrues all that you have done. Orl. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest The duke is humorous; what he is, indeed,

Tha working. More suits you to conceive, than me to speak of.

Ro Duke F. You shall try but one fall.

Orl. Ithank you, sir; and, pray you, tell me this: Let Cha. No, I warrant your grace; you shall not entreat Which of the two was danghter of the duke, him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him That here was at the wrestling? from a first.

Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by man- In Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should not have

A mocked me before: but come your ways! But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter:

N Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man! The other is daughter to the banish'd duke,

D Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fel- And here detain'd by her usurpiug uncle,

1 low by the leg: (Charles and Orlando wrestle. To keep his daugater company; whose loves

ITE Ros. O excellent young man! Are dearer, than the natural bond of sisters.

TI Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who But I can tell you, that of late this duke

Le strould down.

(Charles is thrown. Shout. Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece; Duke F. No more, no more! Grounded upon no other argument,

Te Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace; I am not yet well But that the people praise her for her virtues, breathed.

And pity her for her good father's sake; Duke F. How dost thou, Charles ?

And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady
Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord.

Will suddenly break forth.--Sir, fare you well;
Duke F. Bear him away! Charles is borne out. Hereafter, in a better world than this
What is thy name, young man?

I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.
Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of sir Row- Orl. I rest much bounden to you; fare well!
land de Bois.

[Exit Le Beau. DukeF.I would,thou hadst been son to some man else. Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; The world esteem'd thy father honourable,

From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother : But I did find him still mine enemy:

But heavenly Rosalind !

[Lxit. Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this deed, Hadst thou descended from another house.

SCENE II.- A room in the palace. But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth;

Inter Celia and Rosalinn. I would, thou hadst told me of another father. Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rosalind ;-Cupid have mer

[Lxeunt Duke Fred. Train, and Le Beau. cy!-- Not a word? Cel. Werel 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 away His youngest son;-and would not change that calling, upon curs, throw some of them at me; come, lame me To be adopted heir to Frederick.

with reasons ! Ros. My father lov'd sir Rowland as his soul, Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when the And all the world was of my father's mind :

one should be lamed with reasons, and the other mad
Had I before known this young man his son,
I should have given him tears unto entreaties,

Cel. But is all this for your father?
Ere he should thus have ventur'd.

Ros. No, some of it for my child's father. O, how full
Cel. Gentle cousin,

of briars is this working-day world! Let us go thank him, and encourage him!

Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in My father's rough and envious disposition

holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, Sticks me at heart. -Sir, you have well deserv'd: our very petticoats will catch them. If you do keep your promises in love,

Ros. I could shake them off my coat; these burs are But justly, as you have exceeded promise,

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Cel. Hem them away!

I cannot live out of her company.
Ros. I would try; if I could cry hem, and have him. Duke F. You are a fool. - You, niece, provide your-
Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections !

self;
Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than If you out-stay the time, upon mine honour,
myseif.

And in the greatness of my word, you die.
čel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time,

[Lxeunt Duke Frederick and Lords. in despite of a fall.—But, turning these jests out of ser- Cel. O my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou go? vice, let us talk in good earnest. Is it possible, on such Wilt thou change fathers ? I will give thee mine. a sudden, you should fall into so strong a liking with I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am. old sir Rowland's youngest son ?

Ros. I have more cause.
Ros. The duke my father lov'd his father dearly. Cel. Thou hast no:, cousin;
Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should love his Pr’ythee, be cheerful ! know'st thou not, the duke
son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, Hath banish'd me his daughter?
for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Ros. That he hath not.
Orlando.

Cel. No? hath not? Kosalind lacks then the love,
Ros. No, 'faith ; hate him not, for my sake. Which teacheth thee, that then and I am one:
Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well ? Shall we be sunder'd ? shall we part, swect girl ?
Ros. Let me love him for that; and do you love him, No; let my father seek another heir !
because I do.-Look, here comes the 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 :
Enter Duke FredERICK, with Lords.

And do not seek to take your change upon u,
DukeF. Mistress, despatch you with your safest haste, To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out:
And get you from our court.

For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,
Ros. Me, uncle?

Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee.
Duke F. You, cousin :

Ros. Why, whither shall we go?
Within these ten days if that thou be'st found Cel. To seek my uncle.
So near our public court as twenty miles,

Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Thou diest for it.

Maids as we are, to travel forth so far?
Ros. I do beseech your grace,

Beauty provoketh thieves sooner, than gold.
Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me; Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
If with myself I hold intelligence,

And with a kind ofumber smirch my face ;
Or have acquaintance with mine own desires : The like do you ; su shall we pass along,
If that I do not dream, or be not frantic,

And never stir assailants.
(As I do trust I am not,)then, dear uncle,

Ros. Were it not better,
Never, so much as in a thought unborn,

Because that I am more than common tall,
Did I offend your highness.

'That I did suit me all points like a man?
Duke F. Thus do alltraitors;

A gallaut curtle-ax upon my thigh,
If their purgation did consist in words,

A boar-spear in my hand; and (in my heart
They are as innocent, as grace itself ;-

Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will)
Let it suffice thee, that I thrust thee not.

We'll have a swashing and a martial outside;
Ros. Yet your mistrnst cannot make me a traitor:

As many other mannish cowards have,
Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.

That do outface it with their semblances.
Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a man?
enough.

Ros. I'll have no worse a name, than Jove's own page,
Ros. So was I, when your highness took his dukedom; And thereforelook you call me Ganymede.
So was I, when your highness banish'd him:

But what will you be call’d?
Treason is not inherited, my lord ;

Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state;
Or, if we did derive it from our friends,

No longer Celia, but Aliena.
What's that to me? my father was no traitor :

Ros. But, cousin, what, if we assay'd to steal
Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much, The clownish fool out of your father's court?
To think my poverty is treacherons !

Would he not be a comfort to our travel ?
Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.

Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me,
Duke F. Ay, Celia ; we stay'd her for your sake, Leave me alone to woo him. Let's away,
Else had she with her father rang'd along.

And get our jewels and our wealth together;
Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay,

Devise the fittest time, and safest way
It was your pleasure, and your own remorse;

To hide us from pursuit, that will be made
I was too young that time to value her,

After my flight! Now go we in content,
But now I know her: if she be a traitor,

To liberty, and not to banishment. [Exeunt.
Why so am I; we still have slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn’d, play'd, eat together ;
And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans,

Аст
Still we went coupled, and inseparable.

SCENE I.— The Forest of Arden.
Duke F. She is too subtle for thee, and her smooth- Enter Duke senior, Amiens, and other Lords, in the
ness,

dress of Foresters. Her very silence, and her patience,

Duke S. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile,
Speak to the people, and they pity her.

Hath not old custom made this life more sweet,
Thou art a fool : she robs thee of thy name;

Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more vir- More free from peril, than the envious court? tuons,

Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
When she is gone. Then open not thy lips;

The seasons' difference; as, the icy fang,
Firm and irrevocable is my doom,

And charlish chiding of the winter's wind;
Which I have pass'd upon her: she is banish'd. Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege;' Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say:

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This is no flattery: these are counsellors,

2 Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft
That feelingly persuade me, what I am.

Your grace was wout to laugh, is also missing.
Sweet are the uses of adversity,

Hesperia, the princess' gentlewoman,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,

Confesses, that she secretly o’erheard
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;

Your daughter and her cousin much commend
And this our life, exempt from public haunt, The parts and graces of the wrestler,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles;
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.

And she believes, wherever they are gone,
Ami. I would not change it. Happy is your grace,

That youth is surely in their company.
That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Duke F.Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither;
Into so quiet and so sweet a style!

If he be absent, bring his brother to me!
Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison? I'll make him find him. Do this suddenly,
And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,

And let not search and inquisition quail
Being native burghers of this desert city,

To bring again these foolish runaways. L.reunt.
Should, in their own confines, with forked heads
Have their round haunches gor'd.

SCENE III.Before Oliver's house,
1 Lord. Indeed, my lord,

Enter ORLANDO and Adau, meeting.
The melancholy Jaques grieves at that ;

Orl. Who's there?
And, in that kind, swears, you do more usurp

Adam. What! my young master? O, my gentle master,
Than doth your brother, that hath banish'd you, o, my sweet master, 0, you memory
To-day, my lord of Amiens, and myself,

of old sir Rowland! why, what make you here?
Did steal behind him, as he lay along

Why are you virtuous ? why do people love you?
Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant ?
Upon the brook, that brawls along this wood; Why would you be so fond to overcome
To the which place a poor sequester'd stag,

The bony priser of the humorous duke?
That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,

Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord, Know you not, master, to some kind of men
The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans, Their graces serve them but as enemies ?
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat No more do yours; your virtues, gentle master,
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears

Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.
Cours'd one another down his innocent nose

0, what a world is this, when what is comely
In piteous chase: and thus the hairy fool,

Envenoms him that bears it!
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,

Orl. Why, what's the matter?
Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, Adam. O, unhappy youth,
Augmenting it with tears.

Come not within these doors! Within this roof
Duke S. But what said Jaques ?

The enemy of all your graces lives :
Did he not moralize this spectacle ?

Your brother--(no, no brother; yet the son-
1 Lord. O yes, into a thousand similes.

Yet not the son :--I will not call him son-
First, for his weeping in the needless stream; Of him I was about to call his father, ) --
Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak'st a testament Hath heard your praises; and this night he means
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more

To burn the lodging, where you use to lie,
To that which had too much. Then, being alone,

within it: if he fail of that,
Left and abandon’d of his velvet friends;

He will have other means to cut you off :
'Tis right, quoth he; thus misery doth part

I overheard him, and his practices.
The flux of company. Anon, a careless herd, This is no place, this house is but a butchery;
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him,

Abhorit, fear it, do not enter it!
And never stays to greet him ; Ay, quoth Jaques, Orl. Why, whither, Adam, would'st thou have me go?
Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens ;

Adam. No matter whither, so you conie not here. 'Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look

Orl. What would'st thou have me go and beg my food?
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?

Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce
Thus mostinvectively he pierceth through

A thievish living on the common road?
The body of the country, city, court,

This I must do, or know not, what to do;
Yea, and of this our life: swearing, that we

Yet this I will not do, do how I can :
Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse, I rather will subject me to the malice
To fright the animals, and to kill them up,

Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother,
In their assign’d and native dwelling place.

Adam. But do not so! I have five hundred crowns,
DukeS.And did you leave him in this eontemplation? The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father,
2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting Which I did store, to be my foster-nurse,
Upon the sobbing deer.

When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
Duke S. Show me the place!

And unregarded age in corners thrown;
I love to cope him in these sullen fits;

Take that: and He, that doth the ravens feed,
For then he's full of matter.

Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. (Exeunt. Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;

Allthis I give you. Let me be your servant;
SCENE II.-- A room in the palace.

Though I look old, yet I am strong and lasty:
Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, and Attendants. Forin my youth I never did apply
Duke F. Can it be possible, that no man saw them? Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
It cannot be: some villains of my court

Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo
Are of consent and sufferance in this.

The means of weakness and debility;
1 Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you;
Saw her a-bed; and, in the morning early,

I'll do the service of a younger man
They found the bed untreasur’d'of their mistress. In all your business and necessities.

And you

with me.

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good Aliena!

Orl. O good old man ! how well in thee appears wooing ofa peascod instead of her; from whom I took
The constant service of the antique world,

two cods, and, giving her them again, said with weepWhen service sweat for duty, not for meed!

ing tears, I ear ihese for my sake. We, that are true Thou art noi for the fashion of these times,

| lovers, run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in Where none will sweat, but for promotion ;

nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly. And having that, do choke their service up

Ros. Thou speak'st wiser, than thou art 'ware of.
Even with the having. It is not so with thee;

Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be 'ware of mine own wit,
But, poor old man, thou prup'st a rotten tree, till I break my shins against it.
That cannot so much as a blossom yield,

Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion is much
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.

upon my fashion.
But come thy ways, we'll go along together;

Touch. Aud mine; but it grows something stale
And cre we have thy youthful wages spent,
We'll light upon some settled low content.

Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond man,
Adam, Master, go on; and I will follow thee, If he for gold will give us any food:
To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.

I faint almost to death.
From seventeen years till now, almost fourscore, Touch. Holla; you, clown!
Here lived I, but now live here no more.

Ros. Peace, fool! he's not thy kinsman.
At seventeen years many their fortunes seek;

Cor. Who calls ?
But at fourscore, it is too late a week:

Touch. Your betters, sir.
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better,

Cor. Else are they very wretched.
Than die well, and not my master's debtor. (Exeunt. Ros. Peace, I say!

Good even to you,

friend!
SCENE IV.-The Forest of Arden. Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.
Enter Rosalind in boy's clothes, Celia drest like a Ros. I pr'ythee, shepherd, if that love, or gold,
Shepherdess, and Touchstone.

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, it my legs were not Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd,

And faints for succour.
weary.

Roš. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's Cor. Fair sir, I pity her,
apparel, and to cry like a woman: but I must comfort And wish for her sake, more than for mine own,
the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to shew My fortunes were more able to relieve her:
itself courageous to petticoat; therefore, courage, But I am shepherd to another man,

And do not sheer the fleeces, that I graze;
Cel. I pray you,

bear with me; I cannot go no further. My master is of churlish disposition,
Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you, than Aud little recks to find the way to heaven
bear you: yet I should bear no cross, if I did bear you; By doing deeds of hospitality.
for, I think, you have no money in your purse. Besides, his cote, his ilocks, and bounds of feed,
Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden.

Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now,
Touch.Ay, now am I in Arden: the more foolI;when By reason of his absence, there is nothing
I was at home, I was in a better place; but travellers That you will feed on; but what is, come see,
must be content.

And in my voice most welcome shall you be.
Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone. —Look you, who Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?
comes here; a young man, and an old, in solemn talk. Cor.That young swain, that you saw here but erewhile,
Enter Corin and Silvius,

That little cares for buying any thing.
Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st, how I do love her! Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock,
Cor. I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now. And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.
Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guiess; Cel. And we will mend thy wages; I like this place,
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover, And willingly could waste my time in it.
As ever sigh d upon a midnight pillow:

Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold.
But, if thy love were ever like to mine,

Go with me; if you like, upon report,
(As sure I think did never man love so,)

The soil, the profit, and this kind of life,
How
many actions most ridiculous

I will your very faithful feeder be,
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?

And buy it with your gold right suddenly. (Exeunt.
Cor. Into a thousand, that I have forgotten.
Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily:

SCENE V.- The same.
Ifthou remember'st not the slightest folly,

Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others.
That ever love did make thee run into,

SONG,
Thou hast notlov'd :

Ami. Under the greenwood tree
Or, if thou hast not sat as I do now,

Who loves to lie with me,
Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,

And tune his merry note
Thou hast not lov'd:

Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Or, if thou hast not broke from company,

Come hither, come hither, come hither!
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,

Here shall he see
Thou hast not lov'd : 0 Phebe, Phebe, Phehe!

[Exit Silvius.

But winter and rough weather.
Ros. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy wound, Jaq. More, more, I pr’ythee, more!
I have by hard adventure found mine own.

Ami. It will make you melancholy, monsieur Jaques.
Touch. And I mine: I remember, when I was in love, Jaq.I thank it. More, I pr’ythee, more! I can suck me-
I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take that lancholy out of a song, as a weazel sucks eggs. More,
for coming a-night to Jane Smile: and I remember the I pr’ythee, more!
kissing of her batlet, and then the cow's dugs that her Ami My voice is ragged ; I know, I cannot please you.
pretty chop'd hands had milk'd: and I remember the Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire you

No enemy,

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