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 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 fubject 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; Tho' 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 I 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.

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 so with thee; But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree, That cannot so much as a blofssom 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

As you LIKE IT.

287

Ve'll light upon some settled low Content.
Adam. Master, go on; and I will follow thee
To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
rom 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;
Tet fortune cannot recompence me better
Than to die well, and not my master's debtor. [Exe.

SCENE changes to the FOREST of Arden.

Enter Rosalind in Boy's cloaths for Ganimed, Celia drest like a Shepherdess for Aliena, and Clown.

Rof. Jupiter how weary are my fpirits? (5)
Clo. I care not for my spirits, 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 veaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show it felf Courageous to petticoat; therefore, courage, good Aliena. Cel. I pray you, bear with me, I cannot go no further. Clo. For my part, I had rather bear with you, than ear you; yet I should bear no Cross, if I did bear you; For, I think, you have no mony in your purse. Rof. Well, this is the forest of Arden.

Clo. Ay; now I am in Arden, the more fool I; when was at home, I was in a better place; but travellers

must be content.

Rof. Ay, be so, good Touchstone: look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in folemn talk.

(5) O Jupiter! how merry are my Spirits?] And yet, withn the Space of one intervening Line, She says, She could find n her Heart to disgrace her Man's Apparel, and cry like a Woman. Sure, this is but a very bad Symptom of the Briskness of Spirits.: rather, a direct Proof of the contrary Disposition. Mr. Warburton and I, concurr'd in conjecturing it should be, as I have reform'd it in the Text: ----how weary are my Spiits? And the Clown's Reply makes this Reading certain.

Enter Enter Corin and Silvius.

Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you ft
Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do lov
Cor. I partly guess, for I have lov'd ere now
Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou can'ft not gu

Tho' in thy youth thou wast 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 so)
How many actions most ridiculous
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasie?

Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily;

If thou remember'st not the flightest folly,
That ever love did make thee run into;
Thou hast not lov'd.

Or if thou hast not fate as I do now,
Wearying the 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

Rof. Alas, poor Shepherd! searching of thy wou I have by hard adventure found my own.

Clo. And I mine; I remember, when I was in lo I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take for coming a-nights to Jane Smile; and I remem the kissing of her batlet, and the cow's dugs that pretty chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I t two cods, and giving her them again, said with we ing tears, wear these for my fake. We, that are t lovers, run into strange capers; but as all is mortal nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.

Rof. Thou speak'st wiser, than thou art ware of. Clo. Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit, '

As you LIKE IT.

289

Clo. And mine; but it grows something stale with me. Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond man,

If he for gold will give us any food;

I faint almost to death.

Clo. Holla; you, Clown!

Rof. Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman.

Cor. Who calls ?

Clo. Your Betters, Sir.

Cor. Else they are very wretched.

Rof. Peace, I say; good Even to you, friend.
Cor. And to you, gentle Sir, and to you all.
Rof. I pr'ythee, shepherd, if that love or gold
Can in this desart place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may rest our selves, and feed;
Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd,
And faints for fuccour.

Cor. Fair Sir, I pity her,

And wish for her fake, 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 wreaks to find the way to heav'n
By doing deeds of hospitality:
Befides, his Coate, his flocks,

and bounds of feed

Are now on sale, and at our sheep-coate now,
By reason of his absence, there is nothing
That you will feed on; but what is, come fee;
And in my voice most welcome shall you be.

Rof. What is he, that shall buy his flock and paf

ture?

Cor. That young swain, that you saw here but ere

while,

That little cares for buying any thing.

Rof. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,

Buy thou the cottage, pafture, 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 wafte

My time in it.

VOL. II.

Cor. Affuredly, the thing is to be fold;
Go with me; if you like, upon report,
The foil, the profit, and this kind of life,
I will your very faithful, feeder be ;
And buy it with your gold right suddenly.

[Exer

SCENE changes to a defart Part of th

FOREST.

Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others.

SONG.

Under the green-wood tree,

Who loves to lye with me,

And tune his merry note,

Unto the sweet bird's throat,

Come hither, come hither, come hither:

Here shall be fee

No enemy,

But winter and rough weather.

Jaq. More, more, I pr'ythee, more.

Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monfieur Jaqu Jaq. I thank it; more, I pr'ythee, more; I fuck melancholy out of a Song, as a weazel sucks eg more, I pr'ythee, more.

Ami. My voice is rugged; I know, I cannot ple you.

Jaq. I do not defire you to please me, I do de you to fing; come, come, another stanzo; call you itanzo's ?

Ami. What you will, Monfieur Jaques.

Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names, they owe nothing. Will you fing?

Ami. More at your request, than to please my self Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll tha you; but That, they call Compliments, is like the counter of two dog-apes. And when a man thanks