Duke F. How now, daughter, and cousin ? are you crept hither to see the wrestling?

Ros. Ay, my liege; so please you give us leave.

Duke. F. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, three is such odds in the inen: In pity of the challenger's youth, I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated: Speak to him, ladies; see if you can move him.

Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau.
Duke F. Do so: i'll not be by.

[DUKE goes apart. Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princesses call for you.

Orl. I attend them, with all respect and duty.

Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler?

Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general chal-I lenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.

Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years: You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own safety, and give over this attempt.

Ros. Do, young Sir; your reputation shall not therefore be misprized: we will make it our suit to the duke, that the wrestling might not go forward.

Orl. I beseech yon, punish me not with your bard thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes, and gentle wishes, go with me to my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious: if killed, but one dead, that is willing to be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have noue to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty.

Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you.

Cel. And mine, to ke out her's.

Ros. Fare you " . Pray heaven, I be deceived in you:8, ar Vel. You

Cha. Co

is so desireart's

not desires be with you.

e is this young gallant, that
with his mother earth?

Orl. Reauer; but his will hath in it a more modest working.

Duke F. You shall try but one fall.

Cha. No, I warrant your grace; you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.

Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked me before: but come your ways.

Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young

man!

Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg.

But I did find him still mine enemy:
Thou should'st have better pleas'd me with this
deed,

Hadst thou descended from another house.
But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth;
I would thou hadst told me of another father.
[Exeunt DUKE, FRED. Train, and L.B
BEAU.

Cel. Were my father, coz, would I do
this ?

Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's
son,

His youngest son;-and would not change that
calling,
To be adopted heir to Frederick.

Ros. My father loved Sir Rowland as his
soul,

And all the world was of my father's mind:
Had I before known this young man his son,
should have given him tears unto entreaties,
Ere he should thus have ventur'd.
Cel. Gentle cousin,

Let us go thank him, and encourage him :
My father's rough and envious disposition
Sticks me at heart.-Sir, you have well deserv❜d:
If you do keep your promises in love,
But justly, as you have exceeded promise,
Your mistress shall be happy.
Ros. Gentleman,

[Giving him a chain from her neck. Wear this for me; one out of suits with for

tune; +

That could give more, but that her hand lacks
Shall we go, coz ?

means.

Cel. Ay-fare you well, fair gentleman.
Orl. Can I not say, I thank you? My better
parts
Are all thrown down; and that which here
stands up,

Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.
Ros. He calls us back: My pride fell with

my fortunes:

I'll ask him what he would :-Did you call,

Sir?

Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown
More than your enemies.

Cel. Will you go, coz?
Ros. Have with you :-Fare you well.

[Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA. Orl. What passion haugs these weights upon my tongue ?

I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference.
Re-enter LE BEAU.

O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown;
Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee.
Le Beau. Good Sir, I do in friendship coun-

sel you

To leave this place: Albeit, you have descrv'd
High commendation, true applause, and love;
Yet such is now the duke's condition,
That he misconstrues all that you have done.
The' duke is humorous; what he is, indeed,
More suits you to conceive, than me to speak
of.

Orl. I thank you, Sir; and, pray you, tell
me this;

[CHARLES and ORLANDO wrestle. Ros. O excellent young man! Which of the two was daughter of the duke Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, That here was at the wrestling? can tell who should down.

[CHARLES is thrown. Shout.

Duke F. No more, no more.
Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace; I am not yet
well breathed.

Duke F. How dost thou, Charles?
Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord.
Duke F. Bear him away. [CHARLES is borne
out.] What is thy name, young man?

Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of
Sir Rowland de Bois.

Duke F. I would, thou hadst been son to some man else.

The world esteem'd thy father honourable,

Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge

by mauners;

But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter:
The other is daughter to the banish'd duke,
And here detain'd by her usurping uncle,
To keep his daughter company; whose loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.
But I can tell you, that of late this duke
Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece
Grounded upon no other argument,

Appellation. 4 Turned out of her service. 1 The object to dart at in martial exercises. Disposition.

But that the people praise her for her vir
tues,

And pity her for her good father's sake;
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady
Will suddenly break forth.-Sir, fare you well;
Hereafter, in a better world than this,

I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.
Orl. I rest much bounden to you: fare you
well!
[Exit LE BEAU.
Thus must I from the smoke unto the smother;
From tyrant duke, unto a tyrant brother:-
But heavenly Rosalind !

[Exit.

SCENE III.-A Room in the Palace.

Enter CELIA and ROSALIND.

Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rosalind ;-Cupid have mercy!-Not a word?

Ros. Not one to throw at a dog.

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs, throw some of them at me; tome, lame me with reasous.

Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; When the one should be lamed with reasons, and the other mad without any.

Cel. But is all this for your father?
Ros. No, some of it for my child's father:
Oh how full of briers is this working-day
world!

Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them.

Ros. I could shake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart.

Cel. Hem them away.

Ros. I would try; if I could cry hem, and have him.

Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. Ros. Oh! they take the part of a better wrestler than myself.

Cel. Oh a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in despite of a fall.-But, turning these jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest : Is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son.

Ros. The duke my father loved his father dearly.

Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet bate not Orlando.

Ros. No 'faith, hate him not, for my sake. Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well?

Ros. Let me love him for that; and do you love him, because I do: Look, here comes the duke.

Cel. With his eyes full of anger.

Enter Duke FREDERICK, with Lords. Duke F. Mistress despatch you with your safest haste,

And get you from our court,

Ros. Me, uncle ?

Duke. F. You cousin ;

Within these ten days if that thou be'st found
So near our public court as twenty miles,
Thou diest for it.

Ros. I do beseech your grace,

Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a
traitor :

Tell me, whereon the likelihood depends.
Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's
enough.

Ros. So was I, when your highness took his
dukedom;

So was I, when your highness banish'd him:
Treason is not inherited, my lord;

Or, if we did derive it from our friends,
What's that to me? my father was no traitor:
Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much,
To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.
Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your
sake,

Else had she with her father rang'd along.

Cel. I did not then entreat to bave her stay,
It was your pleasure, and your own remorse;
I was too young that time to value her,
But now I know her if she be a traitor,
Why so am I; we still have slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eet together;
And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans,
Still he went coupled, and inseparable.

Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her
smoothness,

Her very silence, and her patience,
Speak to the people, and they pity ber.
Thou art a fool she robs thee of thy name;
And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more
virtuous,

When she is gone: then open not thy lips;
Firm and irrevocable is my doom

Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd.
Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my
liege;

I cannot live out of her company.
Duke F. You are a fool :-You, niece, provide
yourself;

If you out-stay the time, upon mine bonour,
And in the greatness of my word, you die.

[Exeunt Duke FREDERICK and Lords. Cel. O my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou go;

Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.
I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I

am.

Ros. I have more cause. Cel. Thou hast not, core,: Pry'thee, be cheerful: kre is t thou not, the duke e secu Hath banish'd me his daugi. the

Ros. That he hath not. 'te

Cel. No I hath not? Rosali lacks then the
love

Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one:
Shall we be sunder'd? shall we part, sweet girl?
No; let my father seek another heir.
Therefore devise with me, how we may fly,
Whither to go, and what to bear with us:
And do not seek to take your change apon you
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out;
For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows' pale,
Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee.
Ros. Why, whither shall we go?
Cel. To seek my uncle.

Ros. Alas! what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far?
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,

Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with And with a kind of umber+ smirch my face:

Have their round haunches gor'd.
1 Lord. Indeed, tny lord,

The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;
And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp
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, whose antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood:
To the which place a poor sequester'd 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 such groans,
That their discharge did stretch his leathern

Your praise is come too swiftly home before

you.

Know you not, master, to some kind of men
Their graces serve them but as enemies?

No more do your's; your virtues, gentle mas-
ter,

Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.

Oh! what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it?

Orl. Why, what's the matter?
Adam. O unhappy youth,

Come not within these doors; within this roof
The enemy of all your graces lives:

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

means

To burn the lodging where you use to lie,
And you within it: if he fail of that,

he

He wilt 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, wouldst thou have
me go?

Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here.

Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg ny food?

Or, with a base and boisterous sword, en-
force

A thievish living on the common road?
This must do, or know not what to do:
Yet this 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,
Whea 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.

SCENE IV.-The forest of Arden.

Enter ROSALIND in Boy's clothes; CRLIA dressed like a Shepherdess, and TOUCH

STONE.

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

Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my 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 can 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 1; 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. Oh! thou didst then ne'er love so beart'ly:
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 bearer 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, Pbebe!
[Exit 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

Orl. O good old man; how well in thee ap- was in love, I broke my sword upon a stone,

pears

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 noue will sweat, but for promotion;
And having that, do choke their service up
Even with the baving 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 four-

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 chopp'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 shins against it. Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion is much upon my fashion.

Touch. And nine; but it grows something

Ros. Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman.
Cor. Who calls?

Touch. Your betters, Sir.

Cor. Else are they very wretched.

Ros. Peace, I say ;

Good even to you, friend.

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 teed: 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 sheer 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.

I like

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:
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.

SCENE V.-The same.

[Exeunt.

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 melancholy, monsieur
Jaques.

I

Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel sucks eggs: More, I pr'ythee, more.

Ami. My voice is ragged; I know, I cannot please you.

Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire you to sing: Come, more; another stanza; Call you them stanzas ?

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

Ami. More at your request, than to please myself.

Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you: but that they call compliment, is like the encounter of two dog-apes: and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks, I have given him a penny, and be renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will not hold your tongues.

Ami. Well, I'll end the song.-Sirs, cover the while; the duke will drink under this tree :-he hath been all this day to look you.

Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too disputable for my company : I think of as many matters as he; but I give heaven thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come.

SONG.

Who doth ambition shun, [All together here.
And loves to live i'the sun,

Seeking the food he eats,

And pleas'd with what he gets,

Come hither, come hither, come hither;
Here shall he see

No enemy,

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, ducdàme, ducdàme ; †
Here shall he see,

Gross fools as he,

An if he will come to Ami.

Ami. What's that ducdùme?

Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools in to 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: oh! I die for food! Here lie 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 awhile at the arm's end: I'll 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. Well said! thou look'st cheerly and I'll be with thee quickly.-Yet thou liest in the bleak air: Come, I will bear thee to some shelter; and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this desert, [Exeunt. Cheerly, good Adam!

SCENE VII.-The same.

A table set out.-Enter DUKE senior, AMIENS,
LORDS, and others.

Duke S. I think he be transform'd into a

• Disputatious.

A word coined for the nonce. 1 Made up of discords.