But what will you be call’d?

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

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

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 safest way To hide us from pursuit that will be made After my fight: now go we in content To liberty, and not to banishment. [Exeunt.

A CT II.

SCENE I.

ARDEN FOREST.

Enter Duke senior, Amiens, and two or three lords like

foresters.

DUKE senior.
ow, 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,

N

2 In former editions, Here feel we not the penalty. What was the penalty of Adam, hinted at by our poet? The being sensible of the difference of the seasons. The Duke says, the cold and effects of the winter feelingly persuade him what he is. How does he not then feel the penalty? Doubtless, the text must be reftored as I have corrected it: and 'tis obvious in the course of these notes, how often not and but by mistake have chang'd place in our author's former editions. THEOBALD.

The

The seasons' 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 shrink with cold, I smile, and say,
This is no flattery: these are counsellors,
That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the coad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head : 3
And this our life, exempt from publick háunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
Ami. I would not change it. + Happy is your

grace,
That can translate the stubbornness of fortune
Into so quiet and so sweet a style.

Duke Sen. Come, shall we go and kill us venison?
And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,
Being native burghers of this desert city,
Should in their own confines, s with forked heads
Have their round haunches gor'd.

3 Which, like the road, ugly and venemous,

Wears yet a precious jewel in his bead :) It was the current opinion in Shakespeare's time, that in the head of an old toad was to be found a stone, or pearl, to which great virtues were ascribed. This stone has been often fought, but nothing has been found more than accidental or perhaps morbid indurations of the skull. JOHNSON.

In a book called A Green Forest, or a Natural History, &c. by John Maplett, 1567, is the following account of this imaginary gem : “ In this stone is apparently seene verie often the verie “ forme of a tode, with delpotted and coloured feete, but those “ uglye and defusedly. It is available against envenoming."

STEEVÈNS. 4 I would not change it.) Mr. Upton, not without probability, gives these words to the Duke, and makes Amiens begin, Happy is your grace. Johnson.

s - with forked beads) i. e. with arrows, the points of which were barbed. STEEVENS.

I Lord.

i Lord. Indeed, my lord,
The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;
And, in that kind, fwears 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 sequestred stag,
That from the hunters' aim had ta'en a hurt,
Did come to languilh; and, indeed, my lord,
The wretched animal heav'd forth such groan's
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nose
In piceous chase: and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.

Duke Sen. But what said Jaques?
Did he not moralize this spectacle ?

i Lord. O yes, into a thousand fimilies.
First, for his weeping in the needless stream;
Poor Deer, quoth he, thou mak's a testament
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more
To that which had too much. Then, being alone,
Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends;
'Tis right, quoth he; thus misery 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 greasy citizens ;
'Tis just the fashion : wherefore do yout

look
Upon that poor and lroken bankrupt there?
Thus molt invectively he pierceth through
The body of the country, city, court,
Yea, and of this our life : swearing, chat we

Are

Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse,
To fright the animals, and to kill them up
In their assign'd and native dwelling place.
Duke Sen. And did you leave him in this contem

plation 2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and comment

ing,
Upon the lobbing deer.

Duke Sen. Show me the place ;
I love to cope him in these sullen fits.
For then he's full of matter.

2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

THE PALACE.

Enter Duke Frederick with Lords.

Duke. Can it be possible that no man saw them? It cannot be. Some villains of my court Are of consent and sufferance 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 untreasur’d of their mistress. 2 Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom fo

oft
Your Grace was wont to laugh, is also miffing.
Hesperia, the princess' gentlewoman,
Confesses, that the secretly o’er-heard
Your daughter and her coulin much commend

and
graces

of the wrestler,
That did but lately foil the finewy Charles ;
And the believes, where ever they are gone,

The parts

-10 cope him,] To encounter him; to engage with him.

Johnson.

Thai

That youth is surely in their company,
Duke. Send to his brother : fetch that gallant hi-

ther;
If he be absent, bring his brother to me,
I'll make him find him. Do this suddenly ;
And let not search and inquisition quail
To bring again these foolish runaways. (Exeunte

SCENE III.

OLIVER'S HOUSE.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

Orla. Who's there?
Adam. What! my young master? Oh, my gentle

master,
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, strong, and valiant ?
Why would you be so fond to overcome
The bony priser of the humorous Duke?

you mimory) Shakespeare often uses memory for memorial: and Beaumont and Fletcher sometimes. So in the Humorous Lieutenant;

" I knew then how to seek your memories.” Again, in The Atheist’s Tragedy, by C. Torner, 1611;

6. And with his body place that memory

• Of noble Charlemont." And in Byron's Tragedy;

“ That ftatue will I prize past all the jewels
“ Within the cabinet of Beatrice,

“ The memory of my graudame." STEEVENS,
8 In the former editions, The BONNY prife) We should
read BONE Y frijer. For this wrestler is characterised for his irengia
and bulk, not for his gaiety or good-humour. WARBURTON,
So Milton, Giants of nighty bone. JOHNSON,

S Vol. III.

Your