Ros. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own

page;
And therefore look

you
call

me, Ganimed.
But what will you be callid ?

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

Ros. 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 ?

Çel, 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 600
After my flight: Now go we in content ;
To liberty, and not to banishment. [Exeunt,

ACT II. SCENE I.

The Forest of Arden. Enter Duke senior, AMIENS, and

two or three Lords like Foresters,

Duke Sen. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in

exile,
Hath not old custom ade 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,
The seasons' difference; as, the icy fang,

And

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 fattery: these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Sweet are the uses of adversity ;
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head :
And this our life, exempt from publick haunt,
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 stile.

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, with forked heads
Have their round haunches gor'd.

i Lord. Indeed, my 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 sequestred 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 coat
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nose

40
In piteous 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 similies.
First, for his weeping in the needless stream;
Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak’st 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 you

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

Duke

50

60

Duke Sen. And did you leave him in this contem.

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

ing
Upon the sobbing 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.

i 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 so

80 Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. Hesperia, the princess' gentlewoman, Confesses, that she secretly o'er-heard Your daughter and her cousin much commend The parts and graces of the wrestler That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles;

And

oft

And she believes, wherever they are gone,
That youth is surely in their company.
Duke. Send to his brother ; fetch that gallant hjá

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.

[Exeunt.

go

SCENE III.

with

Oliver's House. Enter ORLANDO, and ADAM.
Orła. Who's there?
Adam. What! my young master? -Oh, my gentle

master,
Oh, my sweet master, O you memory
Of old Sir 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 humourous duke?
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 master,
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.
Oh, what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it !
Dij

Orla.

100