To the which place a poor fequeftred stag,
That from the hunters' aim had ta'en a hurt,
Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord,
The wretched animal heav'd forth such 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 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,
And never stays to greet him: ay, quoth Jaques,
Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens,
Tis juft the fashion: wherefore do you look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt here?
Thus moft invectively he pierceth 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 changes to the PALACE again.
Enter Duke FREDERICK, with Lords.
Duke. Can it be poffible, that no man faw them?
It cannot be; fome villains of my court
Are of consent and sufferance in this.
1 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 miftrefs.
2 Lord. My lord, the roynifh clown, at whom fo oft
Your Grace was wont to laugh, is also miffing:
Hifperia, the Princefs' gentlewoman,
Confeffes, that the fecretly o'er-heard
Your daughter and her coufin much commend.
The parts and graces of the wrestler,
That did bu 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 absent, 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 runaways.
SCENE changes to OLIVER'S Houfe.
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 fhould you be fo fond to overcome
The bonny Prifer of the humorous Duke?
Your praise is come too fwiftly home before you.
Know you not, master, to some 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.
O, 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;
Your brother-(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 praises, 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 house is but a butchery;
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.
Orla. Why, whither, Adam, wouldft 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 thievith 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 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 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,
Frofty, 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 fervice of the antique world;
When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will fweat, but for promotion;
And, having that, to choak their fervice up
Even with the having; it is not fo with thee;
But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree,
That cannot fo 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 fome fettled low content.
Adam. Mafter, go on; and I will follow thee
To the last gafp with truth and loyalty.
From seventeen years, 'till now almost fourscore,
Here liv'd I, but now live here no more.
At seventeen years many their fortunes feek;
But at fourfcore, it is too late a week;
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better
Than to die well, and not my master's debtor.
SCENE changes to the FOREST of Arden.
Enter ROSALIND in Boys cloaths for GANIMED. CELIA dreft like a Shepherdefs for ALIENA, and CLOWN.
Rof. O Jupiter! how weary are my fpirits?
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 itself courageous to petticoat; therefore, courage, good Aliena.
Cel. I pray you bear with me, I can go no further.
Clo. For my part, I had rather bear with you, than bear you; yet I fhould bear no cross, if I did bear you; for I think you have no money in your purse.
Rof. Well, this is the forest 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 must be content.
Rof. Ay, be fo, good Mr. Touchstone: look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in folemn talk.
Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you ftill.
Sil. O Corin, that thou knew ft 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,
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 moft ridiculous
Haft thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?
Cor. Into a thoufand that I have forgotten.
Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily;
If thou remember'ft not the flighteft folly,
That ever love did make thee run into;
Thou haft not lov d.
Or if thou haft not fate as I do now,
Wearying the hearer in thy mistress praise,
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 Phebe! Phebe! Phebe!
[Exit SIL. Rof. Alas, poor Shepherd! fearching of thy wound,
I have by hard adventure found my own.
Clo. And I mine; I remember when I was in love, I broke my fword upon a ftone, 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 inflead of her, from whom I took two cods, and giving her them again, faid with weeping tears, wear thefe
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