Your brother-(no, no brother; yet the son-
Yet not the son;-1 will not call him son-
Of him I was about to call his father,)-
Hath heard your praises; and this night he means
To burn the lodging where you used 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 house is but a butchery;
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.

Orl. Why, whither, Adam, would'st thou have
me go?

Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here.
Orl. What would'st thou have me go and beg
my food?

Or, with a base and boisterous sword, 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 subject me to the malice
Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother.
Adam. But do not so: I have five hundred
crowns,

The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father,
Which I did store, to be my foster-nurse,
When service should 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 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 means 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.

Orl. O good old man; how well in thee appears
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 thee,
To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.-
From seventeen years till now almost fourscore
Here lived I, but now live here no more.
At seventeen years many their fortunes seek;
But at fourscore, it is too late a week;
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better,
Than to die well, and not my master's debtor.

[Exeunt.

man's apparel, and to cry like a woman: but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat: therefore, courage, good Aliena.

Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot 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 I; when I was at home, I was in a better place; but travellers must be content.

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

Enter Corin and Silvius.

Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still.
Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her!
Cor. I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now.
Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not 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. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily
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 has not broke from company,
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not lov'd:-O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!
[Erit Silvius.

Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy

wound,

I have by hard adventure found mine own.
Touch. And I mine: I remember, when I was
in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid
him take that for coming anight to Jane Smile:
and I remember the kissing of her batlet," and the
cow's dugs that her pretty chop'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 shius against it.

Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion
Is much upon my fashion.

Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale

with me.

SCENE IV.-The Forest of Arden. Enter If he for gold will give us any food;
Rosalind in boy's clothes, Celia drest like a
Shepherdess, and Touchstone.

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

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

Ros. could find in my heart to disgrace my

(1) Mansion, residence.

(2) Blood turned from its natural course.
(S) A piece of money stamped with a cross.

I faint almost to death.

Touch. Holla; you, clown!
Ros.

Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman.

Cor. Who calls?

Touch. Your betters, sir.

Cor. Else are they very wretched.

(4) In the night.

(5) The instrument with which washers beat Iclothes.

Ros.

Good even to you, friend.

Peace, I say:
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 feed:
Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'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 shear 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. [Exe.
SCENE V.-The same. 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.
Ami. It will make you mélancholy, monsieur
Jaques.

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, ducdàme;
Here shall he see,
Gross fools as he,

An if he will come to Ami.

Ami. What's that ducdàme?

Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into 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: O, I die for food! Here lie I 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 a while at the arm's end: I will 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 mocker of my labour. Juq. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. I can Well said! thou look'st cheerly; and I'll be with suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel sucks thee quickly.-Yet thou liest in the bleak air: eggs: More, I pr'ythee, more. Come, I will bear thee to some shelter; and thou Ami. My voice is ragged; I know, I cannot shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any please you. Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! [Exc. you to sing: Come, more; another stanza; Call SCENE VII.-The same. A table set out. Enter you them stanzas?

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

Duke senior, Amiens, Lords, and others. Duke S. I think he be transform'd into a beast; For I can no where find him like a man.

Ami. More at your request, than to please myself. 1 Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence; Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll Here was he merry, hearing of a song. thank you: but that they call compliment, is like Duke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, the encounter of two dog-apes; and when a man We shall have shortly discord in the spheres:thanks me heartily, methinks I have given him a Go, seek him; tell him, I would speak with him. penny, and he records me the beggarly thanks.

Enter Jaques.

Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show
Of smooth civility: yet am I inland bred,3
And know some nurture:4 But forbear, I say;
He dies, that touches any of this fruit,

Jaq. O worthy fool!-One that hath been a Till I and my affairs are answered.

Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but good?
Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding 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,
Would'st 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

(1) The fool was anciently dressed in a partycoloured coat.

Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone un-¡As you have whisper'd faithfully, you were;

happy:

This wide and universal theatre

Presents more woful pageants than the scene
Wherein we play in.
Jaq.
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits, and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms:
And then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school: And then, the lover;
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his mistress' eye-brow: Then, a soldier;
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden' and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice;
In fair round belly, with good capon lin❜d,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances,
And so he plays his part: The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon;
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side;
His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound: Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.

Re-enter Orlando, with Adam.

And as mine eye doth his effigies witness
Most truly limn'd, and living in your face,-
Be truly welcome hither: I am the duke,
That lov'd your father: The residue of your fortune,
Go to my cave and tell me.-Good old man,
Thou art right welcome as thy master is:
Support him by the arm.-Give me your hand,
And let me all your fortunes understand. [Exe

АСТ III.

SCENE I-A room in the palace. Enter Duke
Frederick, Oliver, Lords, and attendants.

Duke F. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that can.
not be:

But were I not the better part made mercy,
I should not seek an absent argument
Of my revenge, thou present: But look to it;
Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is;
Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living,
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more
To seek a living in our territory.

Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine,
Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands:
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth,
Of what we think against thee.

Oli. O, that your highness knew my heart in this!
I never lov'd my brother in my life.

Duke F. More villain thou.-Well, push him
out of doors;

And let my officers of such a nature
Make an extents upon his house and lands:

Duke S. Welcome: set down your venerable Do this expediently, and turn him going. [Exe.

burden,

And let him feed.

1

Orl.

I thank you most for him..
Adam. So had you need ;
scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
Duke S. Welcome, fall to: I will not trouble you
As yet, to question you about your fortunes :—
Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing.

Amiens sings.
SONG.
I.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude;

Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.

Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere
folly:

Then, heigh, ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.

II.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh,
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remember'd' not.

Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! &c.

SCENE II.-The Forest. Enter Orlando, with
a paper.

Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love:
And, thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,
Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth sway.
O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books,
And in their barks my thoughts I'll character;
That every eye, which in this forest looks,
Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where.
Run, run, Orlando; carve, on every tree,
The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive' she. [Exit.
Enter Corin and Touchstone.

Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, master Touchstone?

Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast thou any philosophy in thee, shepherd?

Cor. No more, but that I know, the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, means, and content, is without three good friends:-That the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn: That good pasture makes fat

Duke S. If that you were the good sir Row- sheep; and that a great cause of the night, is lack

land's son,

of the sun: That he, that hath learned no wit by

(5) Seize by legal process.

(7) Inexpressible.

(6) Expeditiously.