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.

Orl. O 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 choke 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 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 fourscore
Here lived I, but now live here no more.
At seventeen years many their fortunes seek;
But at fourscore, it is too late a week:
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better,
Than to die well, and not my master's debtor. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The forest of Arden.

Enter ROSALIND in boy's clothes, CELIA drest like a Shepherdess, and TOUCHSTONE.

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 cannot 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. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily: 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 hearer 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: Phebe, Phebe, Phebe !

[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 was in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, 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 chop'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

Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale

with me.

Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond man, If he for gold will give us any food;

I faint almost to death.

Touch. Holla; you, clown!

Ros.

Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman

Cor. Who calls?

Touch. Your betters, sir.

Cor. Else are they very wretched.

Ros.

Good even to you, friend.

Peace, I say:

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 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 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 ere-
while,

That little cares for buying any thing.

Kos 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.

SCENE V.-The same.

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,

[Exeunt

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 Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. I 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; tney 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