Cel. And we will mend thy Wages; I like this place, and willingly could Waste my time in it. Cor. Affuredly the thing is to be fold; 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 fuddenly, SCENE V. Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others, SONG. Under the greeenhood Tree, Who loves to lye with me, Unto the Sweet Bird's Throat; Here fhall be fee no Enemy, But Winter and rough Weather. Faq. More, more, I pretheee, more. [Exeunt. Ami. It will make you melancholy, Mounficur Jaques, I can fuck Melancholy out of a Song, As a Weazel fucks Eggs: More, I prethee, more. Ami. My Voice is rugged, I know I cannot please you. I do defire you to fing; Come, come, another Stanzo: Call you 'em Stanzo's? Jaq. Nay, I care not for their Names, they owe me 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 thank you; but that they call Complement is like th' Encounter of two Dog-Apes. And when a Man thanks, me heartily, methinks I have given him a Penny, and he renders me the beggarly Thanks. Come fing, and Come fing, and you that will not, hold your Tongues. Ami. Well, I'll end the Song. Sirs, cover the while; the Duke will Dine under this Tree; he hath been all this day to look you. Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. I think of as many Matters as he, but I give SON G. Who doth Ambition fhun, And pleas'd with what he gets; Here fhall you fee, no Enemy, But Winter and rough Weather. Jaq. I'll give you a Verfe to this Note, Jaq. Thus it goes. If it do come to pass, Here fhall he fee, grofs Fools as he, Ami. What's that Ducdame? Jag. 'Tis a Greek Invocation, to call Fools into a Circle, I'll go fleep if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail against all the Firstborn of Egypt. Ami. And I'll go seek the Duke, His Banquet is prepar'd. SCENE VI. Enter Orlando and Adam. Adam. Dear Mafter, I can go no further: OI die for Food! Here lye I down, [Exeunt. And And measure out my Grave. Farewel, kind Master. I will either be Food for it, or bring it for Food to thee I will give thee leave to die. But if thou dieft And I'll be with thee quickly; yet thou lieft If there live any thing in this Defart. SCENE VII. Enter Duke Sen. and Lords. [Exeunt [A Table fet out. Duke Sen. I think he be transform'd into a Beast, For I can no where find him like a Man. I Lord. My Lord, he is but even now gone hence, Duke Sen. If he, compact of Jars, grow Mufical, 1 Lord. He faves my Labour by his own approach. Duke Sen. Why how now, Monfieur, what a Life is this, That your poor Friends muft woo your Company? What, you look merrily. Jag. A Fool, a Fool, I met a Fool i'th' Foreft, A motley Fool; a miferable World! As I do live by Food, I met a Fool, Who laid him down, and bask'd him in the Sun, Good morrow, Fool, quoth I: No, Sir, quoth he, Call me not Fool, 'till Heav'n hath fent me Fortune ; Thus we may fee, quoth he, how the world wags: And after one hour more 'twill be eleven, Jaq. O worthy Fool; one that hath been a Courtier, And fays, if Ladies be young and fair, They have the Gift to know it: And in his Brain, Which is as dry as the remainder Bisket After a Voyage, he hath ftrange places cram'd With Obfervation, the which he vents In mangled Forms. O that I were a Fool, Duke Sen. Thou shalt have one. Provided that you weed your better Judgments To blow on whom I pleafe, for fo Fools have; They moft muft Laugh: And why, Sir, muft they fo? He that a Fool doth very wifely hit, To To fpeak my Mind, and I will through and through Duke Sen. Fie on thee, I can tell what thou wouldst do. Jaq. What, for a Counter, would I do, but good? Duke Sen. Moft mifchievous foul Sin, in chiding Sin: For thou thy felf haft been a Libertine, As fenfual as the brutish Sting it felf, And all th' imboffed Sores, and headed Evils, That fays his Bravery is not on my coft, There then, how then, what then, let me fee wherein Orla. Forbear, and eat no more. Orla. Nor fhalt not, 'till Neceffity be ferv'd. Duke Sen. Art thou thus bolden'd, Man, by thy Diftress? Or elfe a rude Defpifer of good Manners, That in Civility thou feem'ft fo empty? Orl. You touch'd my Vein at firft, the thorny Point He |