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wit :

Rof. Oft have I heard of you, my Lord Biron,
Before I saw you; and the world's large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks;
Full of comparisons and wounding fouts ;
Which you on all estates will execute,
That lie within the



To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain,
And therewithal to win me, if you please,
(Without the which I am not to be won);
You shall this twelve-month term from day to day
Visit the speechless fick, and still converse
With groning wretches; and your task shall be,
With all the fierce endeavour of your wit,
T'enforce the pained impotent to smile.

Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death?
It cannot be, it is impossible :
Mirth cannot move a foul in agony.

ROS. Why, that's the way to choak a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools : A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it : then, if fickly ears, Deaft with the clamours of their own dear groans, Will hear your idle scorns ; continue then, And I will have you, and that fault withal : But if they will not, throw away that fpirit; And I shall find you empty of that fault, Right joyful of your reformation.

Biron. A twelvemonth? well; befal, what will befal, I'll jett a twelvemonth in an hospital. Prin. Ay, sweet my Lord, and so I take my leave.

[To the King King. No, Madam; we will bring you on your

way. Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old play; Jack hath not Jill; these ladies' courtesy Might well have made our sport a comedy. King. Come, Sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a

day And then 'twill end.

Biron. That's too long for a play.

Enter Armado.
Arm. Sweet Majesty, vouchsafe me-
Prin. Was not that Hector ?
Dum. That worthy knight of Troy.

Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave. I am a votary: I have vow'd to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. But, moftesteem's Greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckow ? it should have follow'd in the end of our Thow.

King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so.
Arm. Holla! approach.

Enter all, for the fong
This fide is Hiems, winter.
This Ver, the spring : The one maintain'd by the owl,
The other by the cuckow,
Ver, begin.

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When daizies pied, and violets blue,

And lady-smocks all filver-white,
And cuckow-buds of yellow hue,

Do paint the meadows much-bedight;
The cuckow then on every tree
Mocks married men; for thus fings he,
Cuckow !

Guckow ! cuckow ! O word of fear,

Unpleasing to a married ear! When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,

And merry larks are ploughmens'clocks :
When turtles tread, and rooks and daws;

And maidens bleach their summer-smocks ;
The cuckow then on every tree
Mocks married men ; for thus fings he,
Cuckow !

Cuckow ! cuckow! O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!

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W I N T E R.
When icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail;
And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail;
When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,
Then nightly fings the staring owl,
Tu-whit! to-whoo!

A merry note,

While greasy fone doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the parson's faw;
And birds fit brooding in the snow,

And Marian's nose looks red and raw;
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whit! to-whoo!

A merry note,

While greasy Jone doth keel the pot.
Arm. The words of Mercury
Are harsh after the songs of Apollo:
You, that way; we, this way. [Exeunt omnes.

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to the ufarping Duke FredeFrederick, brother to the Duke, rick. and u/urper of his dukedom. Touchstone, a clown attending on Lords attendi:g upois

Celia and Rosalind. Amiens,

the Duke in his ba- | Corin, Jaques,

niment. Le Beu, a courtier attending on A clown, in love with Audrey. Frederick,

William, another clown, in love Oliver, eldest son to Sir Rowland

with Audrey. de Boys, who had formerly beer Sir Oliver Mar-text, a country a servant to the Duke.

curate. Jaques, 2 younger brothers to Rosalind, daughter to the Duke, Orlando, Oliver.

Celia, daughter to Frederick, Adam, an old fervant of Sir Row-|Phebe, a shepherdess.

land de Boys, now following the Audrey, a country-weneh. fortunes of Orlando

Lords belonging to the two Dukes y Dennis, Servant to Oliver,

with Pages, Forejters, and on Charles, a wrejiler, and servant ther attendants. The SCENE lies, first, near Oliver's house; and, afterwards,

partly, in the Duke's court, and partly in the forest of Arden.


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Orla. S I remember, Adam, it was upon this

my father bequeath'd me by will but

a poor thousand crowns; and, as thou Tay'st, charged my brother on his blessing to breed me well; and there begins my fadness. My Brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit; for my part, he keeps me ruftically at home; or, to speak more properly, stys me here at home, unkept; for call you that keeping for a gentle VOL, II,


man of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better; for besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired: but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for . the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he fo plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me, his discountenance seems to take from me. He lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, kegins to mutiny against this servitude. I will no longer endure it, tho' yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it.

SCENE II. Enter Oliver.
Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother,
Orla. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he
will shake me up.

Oli. Now, Sir, what make you here?
Orla. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing.
Oli. What mar you then, Sir?

Orla. Marry, Sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made; a poor unworthy brother of your's, with idleness.

Oli, Marry, Sir, be better employ'd, and be nought a while.

Orla. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What prodigal's portion have I spent, that I Tould come to such penury?

Qli. Know you where you are, Sir!
Orla. O, Sir, very well; here in your

Oli. Know you before whom, Sir?

Orla. Ay, better than he I am before, knows me. I know, you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle condition of blood, you should so know me: the couro tesy of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us. I

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