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 myself
Did fteal 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 stretch his leathern coat
Almost to burfting, and the big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nofe
In piteous chafe; 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 fpectacle?
1 Lord. O yes, into a thousand fimilies.
Firft, for his weeping in the needlefs ftream;
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 pafture, jumps along by him,
And never stays to greet him: ay, quoth Jaques,
Sweep on, you fat and greazy citizens,
'Tis juft the fashion; wherefore do you look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?
Thus most invectively he pierced 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 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 ftraight.
SCENE II. The Palace again.
Enter Duke Frederick with Lords.
Duke. Can it be poffible that no man saw them?
It cannot be; fome villains of my court
Are of confent and fufferance in this.
I Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see 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.
1 Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft Your Grace was wont to laugh, is also miffing:
Hifperia, the Princefs' gentlewoman,
Confeffes that fhe fecretly o'erheard
Your daughter and her coufin much commend
The parts and graces of the wrestler
That did but lately foil the finewy Charles;
And fhe 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.
SCENE III. Oliver's Houfe.
Enter Orlando and Adam.
Adam. What! my young mafter? oh my gentle master, Oh my fweet 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 prifer of the humorous Duke?
Your praife is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not, mafter, to fome kind of men
Their graces ferve them but as enemies?
No more do yours; your virtues, gentle mafter,
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 thefe doors; within this roof
The enemy of all your graces lives:
-(no; no brother, yet the fon,
Yet not the fon, I will not call him fon
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 lye,
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 house 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, so 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 fofter-nurfe
When service should in my old limbs be 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
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood,
Nor did I with unbafhful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility;
Therefore my age is as a lufty winter,
Frosty, but kindly; let me go with you,
I'll do the fervice of a younger man
In all your business and neceffities.
Orla. Oh good old man, how well in thee appears
The conftant 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 choak their service up
Even with the having; it is not fo with thee s
But, poor old man, thou prun'ft a rotten tree,
That cannot fo much as bloffom 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 fpent,
We'll light upon fome fettled low content.
Adam. Mafter, go on, and I will follow thee
To the laft gafp with truth and loyalty.
From feventeen years 'till now almoft fourfcore
Here lived I, but now live here no more.
At feventeen years many their fortunes feek,
But at fourfcore, it is too late a week;
Yet fortune cannot recompence me better
Than to die well, and not my mafter's debtor.
SCENE IV. The Foreft.
Enter Rofalind in Boy's cloaths for Ganimed, Cælia dreft like
a Shepherdess for Aliena, and Clown.
Rof. O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits!
Clo. I care not for my fpirits, if my legs were not weary. Rof. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel, and cry like a woman: but I must comfort the weaker veffel, as doublet and hose ought to fhow it felf courageous to petticoat; therefore courage, good Aliena.
Cel. I pray you, bear with me, I can go no further.
Cle. For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear
you; yet I fhould bear no crofs if I did bear you; for I think you have no mony in your purfe.
Rof. Well, this is the foreft of Arden.
Clo. Ay, now I am in Arden, the more fool I; when I. was at home, I was in a better place; but travellers muft be content.
Rof. Ay, be fo, good Touchstone; look you who comes here; a young man and an old in folemn talk.
Cor. That is the way to make her fcorn you ftill.
Syl. O Carin, that thou knew'ft how I do love her!
Cor. I partly guefs; for I have lov'd ere now.
Syl. No, Corin, being old thou can'ft not guefs,
Tho' in thy youth thou waft as true a lover,
As ever figh'd upon a midnight pillow;
But if thy love were ever like to mine,
(As fure I think did never man love fo)
How many actions most ridiculous
Haft thou been drawn to by thy fantafie?
Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
Syl. Oh, thou didst then ne'er love fo heartily;
If thou remember'ft not the flightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into,
Or if thou haft not fate as I do now,
Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress praife,
Thou haft not lov'd,
Or if thou haft not broke from company,
Abruptly as my paffion now makes me,
Thou haft not lov'd.
O Pbebe, Phebe, Phebe!
Rof. Alas poor fhepherd! fearching of thy wound, I have by hard adventure found my own.
Cle. And I mine; I remember, when I was in love, I broke my fword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming a-nights to Jane Smile; and I remember the kiffing of her batlet, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember the wooing of a peafcod inftead of her, from whom I took two cods, and giving her them again, faid with weeping tears, wear these for my fake, VOL. III,
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