That do outface it with their femblances.

Cel. What fhall I call thee, when thou art a man?

Rof. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page; And therefore look you call me, Ganimed.

But what will you be call'd?

Cel. Something that hath a reference to my No longer Celia, but Aliena.

Rof. But, coufin, what if we affay'd to steal The clownish fool out of your father's court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel?

ftate;

Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me;
Leave me alone to woo him: Let's away,
And get our jewels and our wealth together;
Devise the fittest time, and fafeft way
To hide us from pursuit that will be made
After my flight: Now go we in content;
To liberty, and not to banishment.

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

The Foreft of Arden.

Enter Duke fenior, Amiens, and two or three lords like forefters.

Duke Sen. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile,

Hath not old custom made this life more sweet

Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods

More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The feafons' difference; as, the icy fang,
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind;
Which when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even 'till I fhrink with cold, I fmile, and fay,-
This is no flattery: these are counsellors

That

That feelingly perfuade me what I am.

Sweet are the uses of adverfity;

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,

Wears yet a precious jewel in his head:

And this our life, exempt from publick haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in ftones, and good in every thing.

Ami. I would not change it; Happy is your grace,
That can tranflate the ftubbornefs of fortune

Into fo quiet and fo fweet a ftile.

Duke Sen. Come, fhall we go and kill us venifon? And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,

Being native burghers of this defert city,

Should, in their own confines, with 'forked heads
Have their round haunches gor❜d.

1 Lord. Indeed, my lord,

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 steal 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 hunters' 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,

· forked heads]-barbed arrows.

0 3

brawlspurls, murmurs. Stood

Stood on the extreameft verge of the fwift 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.
First, for his weeping in the needless stream;
Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak'ft a teftament
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 greafy citizens ;
'Tis just the fashion: Wherefore do you look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?
Thus most 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? 1 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting Upon the fobbing deer.

Duke Sen. Show me the place;

W

I love to cope him in these fullen fits.
For then he's full of matter.

1 Lord. I'll bring you to him ftraight.

w to cope him]-encounter, meet with him.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

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 consent and * fufferance in this.

1 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.

2 Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft
Your grace was wont to laugh, is also miffing.
Hefperia, the princefs' gentlewoman,
Confeffes, that fhe fecretly o'er-heard

Your daughter and her coufin much commend
The parts and graces of the wrestler
That did but lately foil the finewy Charles;
And she believes, wherever they are gone,
That youth is furely in their company.

Duke. Send to his brother's; 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 2 quail
To bring again these foolish runaways.

[Exeunt.

III.

Oliver's Houfe.

SCENE

Enter Orlando and Adam.

Orla. Who's there?

Adam. What! my young master?-Oh, my gentle

Oh, my sweet master, O you memory

?

Of old fir 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

b

The bony prifer of the humourous duke?
Your praise is come too fwiftly 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 master,
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:

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

I overheard him, and his practices.

d

off:

This is no place, this houfe 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, fo 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?

memory]-memorial.

bonny prize fighter, wrestler. d place,]-of refidence for you:

bfond]-imprudent.