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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 yours; your virtues, gentle mastery
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 these doors; within this roof
The enemy of all your graces lives :
Your brother - (tio; no brother; yet the son,
Yet not the son; I will not call him son
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, wouldst thou have mego?
Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here.
Orla. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my

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 subject 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 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 dothi 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 servants
Vol. II.



Tho? I look old, yet. I am strong and lusty;
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my

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 constant 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 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. Master, go on; and I will follow thec
To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
From seventeen years 'till now almoft fourscore
Here lived I, but now live here no more.
At seventeen years Many their fortunes feek,
But at fourscore, it is too late a week
Yet fortune cannot recompence me better
Than to die well, and not my master's debtor.


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Ś Ć EN É cbanges to the Forest of Arden. Enter Rosalind in Boys cloaths for Ganymed, Celia drejt

like a Shepherdess for Aliena, and Clown. Ros. 11)

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 weaker vessel; as doublet and hose ought to Thow it self 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 beat with you,

than bear 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 I 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.

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 can'st not guess,
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,

(11) Jupiter! how merty are my Spirits ?] And yet, within the Space of one intervening Line, She says, she could find in 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, both, concurr'd in conjecturing it should be, as I have reform'd it in the Text; - bow weary are my Spirits ?

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(As, sure, I think, did never man love so)
How many actions most ridiculous
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasie?

Cor. loco a thousand that I have forgotten.

Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily,
If thou remember'st not the nightest folly,
That ever love did make thee run into;
Thou hast not lov'd.
Or if thou hast not sate as I do now,
Wearying the hearer in thy mistress praise,
Thou hait not loy'd.
Or if thou hast not broke from company,
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me;
Thou hast not lov'd.
O Phehe, Phebe, Phebe!

[Exit Sil. Rof. Alas, poor Shepherd! searching 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 sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming a-nights to Jane Smile; and I remember the killing of her batler, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopt 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 fake. We, that are true lovers, run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love inortal in folly.

Ref. Thou speak’st wiser, than thou art ware of.

Clo. Nay, I İhall ne'er be ware of mine own wit, 'till I break my shins against it.

Rof. Jove! Jove ! this Shepherd's passion is much upon my fashion.

Clo. And mine, but it grows something stale with

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 ?



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Clo. Your Betters, Sir.
Cor. Else they are very wretched.
Rof. Peace, í 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 succour.

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:
Besides, his Coate, his flocks, and bounds of fced
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 see ;
And in my voice most welcome shall you be.
Rof. What is he, that shall buy his flock and pas

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, pasture, 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 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: [Exeunt.

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