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tament; with that I will go buy my fortunes. and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade

Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is him from it; but he is resolute. l'll tell thee, spent? Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be Charles,-it is the stubbornest young fellow of troubled with you: you shall have some part of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of your will : I pray you, leave me.

every man's good parts, a secret and villanous Orl. I will no lurther offend you than becomes contriver against me his natural brother; thereme for my good.

fure use thy discretion; I had as lief thou didst Oli. Get you with him, you old dog.

break his neck as his finger: And thou wert best Alam. Iš old dog my reward ? Most true, I look to't; for is thơu dost him any slight disgrace, bave lost my teeth in your servic:—God be with or if he do not mightily grace himself on thec, he my old master, he would not have spoke such a will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by word.

(Exeunt Orlando ani Adam. some treacherous device, and never leave thee till 0!i. Is it even so ? bagin you to grow upon me?'he hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thou- other: for, I assure thee, and almost with tears I sand crowns neither.-Holla, Dennis !

speak it, there is not onc so young and so villanous Enter Dennis. this day living. I speak but brotherly of him

as , i Den. Calls your worship?

must blush and weep, and thou inust look pale Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here and wonder. to speak with me?

Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and if he come tu-morrow, I'll give him his payment: importunes access to you.

If ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for Oli

. Call him in. (Erit Dennis.]—"Twill be a prize more: And so, God keep your worship! good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is.

[Eril. Oli. Farewell, good Charles.-Now will I stir Enter Charles.

this gamester:2 'I hope, I shall see an end of him; Cha. Good morrow to your worship.

for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing Oli. Good monsieur Charles ! what's the new more than he. Yet he's gentle; never school'd, news at the new court ?

and yet learned ; full of noble device; of all sortsá Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but the enchantingly beloved; and, indeed,' so much in old news: that is, the old duke is banished by his the heart of the world, and especially of my own younger brother the new dake; and three or four people, who best know him, that I am altogether loving lords have put themselves into voluntary misprized: but it shall not be so long; this wrestler exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich shall clear all: nothing remains, but that I kindle the new duke; therefore he gives them good leave the boy thither, which now I'll go about. (Exil. to wander.

SCENE II.-A Inwn before the Duke's palace. Oli. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's daugh

Enter Rosalind and Celia. ter, be banished with her father?

Cha, 0, no ; for the dike's daughter, her cousin, Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be 30 loves her, -being ever from their cradles bred merry. together,-that she would have followed her exile, Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am or have died to stay behind her. She is at the mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier? court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his Unless you could teach me to forget a banished own daughter; and never two ladies loved as father, you must not learn me how to remember they do.

any extraordinary pleasure. Oli. Where will the old duke live?

Cel. Herein, I see, thou lovest me not with the Cia. They say, he is already in the forest or full weight that I love thee: if my uncle, thy baArden, and a miny merry men with him; and nished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke there they live like the old Robin Hood of England : my father, so thou hads't been still with me, I could they say, miny young gentlemen flock to him every have taucht my love to take thy father for mine ; dav; and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in so would'st thou, if the truth of thy love to me the golden world.

were so righteously temper'd as mine is to thee. Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my es. ne i duke?

tate, to rejoice in yours. Chi. Marry, do 1, sir; and I came to acquaint Cel. You know, my father hath no child but I, yo'l with a matter.' I am given, sir, secreily to nor none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies, understand, that your youn rer brother, Orlando, thou shalt be his heir :' for what he ha'h taken huh a disposition to come in discuir'd a crainst me away from thy father perforce, I will render thee to try a fall: To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my again in affection ; by mine honour, I will; and credit: and he that escapes me without some bro- when I break that vath, let me turn monster : thereken limb shall arquit him well. Your brother is fore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. but voung, and tender; and, for your love, I would Ros. From henceforih I will, coz, and devise be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, sports: let me see; What think you of falling in if he come in : therefore, out of my love to you, I love? came hither to acquaint you withal; that eiher Cel. Marry, I pr’ythee, do, to make sport withal: pou might stay him from his intendment, or brook but love no man in good earnes ; nor no further in sich disgrace well as he shall run into;' in that it :port neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou is a laing of his own search, and altogether against inarist in honour come off again. my will.

Ros. What shall be our sport then? Oli. Charles, I think thee for thv love to me, Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifs may hencehad myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, forth be bestowed equally. (1) A ready assent. (2) Frolicksome fellow.

(3) Or all ranks.

Ros. I would, we could do so; for her benefits Ros. As wit and fortune will. are mightily misplaced : and the bountifui blind Touch. Or as the destinies decree. woman duth musi mistake in her gills io women. Cel. Well said ; that was laid on with a trowel.

('ch 'Tis true : for those, that she makes fair, she Touch. Nay, i 'I kecp not my rank, scarce makes nonesi; ana inose, that she mikes Ros. Thou losest thy old smell. honest, she makes very ni-lavour'dly.

Le Beau. You amaze: me, ladies: I would hare Rus. Nay, now ihun goest froin fortune's office told you of good wrestling, which you have lust the to nature's : fortune reiylis in pills of the woriu, si hi of. not in the lineaments of nature.

Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. Enter Touchstone.

Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it

please your ladyships, you may see the end; for the Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair crea- best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they ture, may she not by fortune fail into the fire !- are coming to perform it. Though nature hath given us wit to tlout at for- Cel. Well, -ihe beginning, that is dead and tune, hath noi furtune sent in this fool to cut oft buried. the argument ?

Le Beau. There comes an old man, and his Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature ; three solis, when furtune makes nature's natural the cutter of Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. of nature's wit.

Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent Cel. Pei adventure, this is not fortune's work growth and presence; neither, but nalure's; who perceiving our natural Ros. With bills on their necks,- Be it known wils loo dull to reason of such goduesses, hath sent unto all men by these presents. this natural for our whetstone: for always the dull- Le Beau, The eldest of the three wrestled with ness of the fool is the whetstone of his wits.-llow Charles, the duke's wrestler; which Charles in a now, wit? whither wander you?

moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, Touch. Mistress, you inust come away to your that there is little hope of life in him: so he served father.

the second, and so the third : Yonder they lie; the Cel. Were you made the messenger ?

poor old man, their father, making such pitiful Touch. No, by mine honour ; but I was bid to dole over them, that all the beholders take his part come for you.

with weeping: Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool ?

Ros. Alas! Touch. Or a certain knight, that swore by his Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his the ladies have lost ? honour the mustard was naught: now, I'll stand to Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day good; and yet was not the knight forsworn. it is the first time that ever I heard, breaking of Cel

. How prove you that, in the great heap of ribs was sport for ladies. your knowledge ?

Cel. Or I, I promise thee. Ros. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom. Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broke

Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke your music in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. rib-breaking ?—Shall we see this wrestling, cousin ?

Cel. By our beards, it' we had them, thou art. Le Beau. You must, if you stay here; for hero

Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were: is the place appois.ted for the wrestling, and they but if you swear by that that is not, you are not are ready to perform it. forsworn: no more was this knight, swearing by Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: Let us now his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he stay and see it. had sworn it away, before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard.

Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, Cel. Pr'ythee, who is't that thou mean'st?

Charles, and attendants,
Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves.
Cel. My father's love is enough to honour him.-

Duke F. Come on; since the youth will not be Enough! speak no more of him: you'll be whippa entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. for taxation, one of these days.

Ros. Is yonder the man ? Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak

Le Beani. Eren he, madam. wisely, what wise men do foolishly.

Cel. Alas, he is too young : yet he looks sacCel. By iny troth, thou say'st true : for since the cessfully. little wit, that fools have, was silenced, the little

Duke F. How now, daughter, and cousin ? aro foolery, that wise men have, makes a great show. ycu crept hither to see the wrestling? Here comes monsieur Le Beau.

Ros. Ay, my liege? so please you give us leare.

Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can Enter Le Beau.

tell you, there is such odds in the men : In pily of Ros. With his mouth full of news.

the challenger's youth, I would fain dissuade him, Çel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed but he will not be entreated : Speak to him, ladies :

see if you can move him. Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm'd.

Cel. Call him hither, good monsieur Le Bcau. Cel. All the better; we shall be the more mar

Duke F. Do so; I'll not be by, ketable. Bon jour, monsieur Le Beau: What's

(Duke goes aparl. the news ?

Le Bemi. Monsieur the challenger, the prinLe Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much cesses call for you. good sport.

Orl. I attend them, with all respect and duty. Cel. of what colour ?

Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles Le Beau. What colour, madam? How shall I the wrestler ? unswer you?

Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general chal

lenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with (1) Satire. (2) Perplex, confuse. him the strength of my youth.

their young.


Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold I should have given him tears unto entreaties,
for your years: You have seen cruel proof of this Ere he should ihus have ventur'd.
man's strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes, Cel.

Gentle cousin, or knew you seli with your judgm ni, the lear Let us go thank him, and encourage him : of your adventure would coulisch you io a more My father's rough and envious dispostion equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own Sticks me at heart.-Sir, you have well deserv'd: sane, to embrace your own safety, and give over If you do keep your promises in love, this allempi.

But justiy, as you have exceeded promise, Rus. Du, young sir; your reputation shall not Your mistress shall be happy. therefore be inisprized; we will inake it our suit to Ros.

Gentleman, the duke, that the wrestling might not go forward.

(Giving him a chain from her neck. 0 l. beseech you, punish me not with your Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune ; hard thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, That could give more, but that her hand lacks lo deny su fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes, and gentle wishes, go with me Shall we go, coz? to my trial : wherein if I be foiled, there is but Cel. Ay:-Farc you well, fair gentleman. one shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but Orl. Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my Are all thrown down; and that which here stands friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me; Is but a quintain," a mere lifeless block. (up, the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only Ros. He calls us back: My pride fell with my in the world i ull up a place, which may be better fortunes : supplied when I have made it empty.

I'll ask him what he would :-Did you call, sir ? Rus. The litile strength that I have, I would it Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown were with you.

More than your enemies. Cel. And mine, to eke out hers.


Will you go, coz? Ros. Fare you well.-Pray heaven, I be de- Ros. Have with you :-Fare vou well. ceived in you!

(Ereunt Rosalind and Celia. Cel. Your heart's desires be with you !

Orl. What passion hangs these weighis upon Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that is my tongue ? 80 desirous to lie with his mother earth?

I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conserence. Orl. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more

Re-enter Le Beau. modest working. Duke F. You shall try but one fall.


poor Orlando! thou art overthrown; Cha. No, I warrant your grace ; you shall not Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee. entreat him to a second, that have so mightily per- Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you suaded him from a first.

To leave this place: Albeit, you have deserv'd Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should High commendation, true applausc, and love; not have mocked me before: but come your ways. Yet such is now the duke's condition,

Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man! That he misconstrues all that you have done.
Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong The duke is hunorous : what he is, indeed,
fellow by the leg. (Charles and Orlando wrestle. More suits you to conceive, than me to speak of.
Ros. O excellent young man!

Orl. I think you, sir: and, pray you, tell me this ;
Cel. If I had a Thunderbolt in mine eye, I can Which of the two was dau huer of the duke
tell who should down. (Charles is thrown. Shout. That here was at the wrestling ?
Diike F. No more, no more.

Le Bcau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace; I am not yet

manners ; well breathed.

But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter: Duke F. How dost thou, Charles ?

The other is daughter to the banish'd duke, Le Bear. He cannot spcak, my lord.

And here detain'd by her usurping uncle, Duke F. Bear him away. (Charles is borne out.] To keep his daughter company'; whose loves What is thy naune young man?

Are dearer than the natural bord of sisters. Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Bit I can tell you, that of late this duke sir Rowland de Bois.

Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece; Duke F. I would, thou hadst been son to some Grounded upon no other argument, man else.

But that the people praise her for her virtues, The world esteem'd thy father honourable, And pity her for her good father's sake; But I did find him still mine enemy :

And, on my life, his malice 'gair.st the lady Thou should'st have better pleasd me with this will suddenly break forth.-Sir, fare you well ; deed,

Hereafter, in a better world than this, Hadst thou descended from another house. I shall desire more love and knou ledge of you. But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth; Orl. I rest much bounden to you; sare you well! I would, thou hadst told me of another father.

(Eril Le Beau. [Ereunt Duke Fred. train, and Le Beau. Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this ? From tyrant duke, unto a tyrant brother :Orl. I am more proud to be sir Rowland's son, But heavenly Rosalind !

(Exit. His youngest son ;-and would not change that calling,

SCENE II.A room in the palace. Enter To be adopted heir to Frederick.

Celia and Rosalind.
Ros. My father lor'd sir Rowland as his soul,
And all the world was of my father's mind:

Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rosalind ;-Cupid have Had I before known this young man bis son,

merry!-Not a word ?

Ros. Not one to throw at a dog. (1) Appellation. (2) Turned out of her service.

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast (3) The object to dart at in martial exercises.

(4) Temper, disposition.

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liege ;

you should

away upon curs, throw some of them at me; come, Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay, lame me with reasons.

It was your pleasure, and your own remorse;" Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when I was 100 young that time to value her, the one should be lamed with reasons, and ihe other But now [ know her: if she be a traitor, mad without any.

Why so am l; we still have slept together, Cel. But is all this for your father?

Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eal together; Ros. No, some of it for my child's father: 0, And wheresoe'er we went, like Junu's swans, how full ot briers is this working-day world! Still we went coupled, and inseparable.

Cel. They are but buts, cousin, thrown upon Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the smoothness, trodden palhs, our very petticoats will catch them. Her very silence, and her patience,

Ros. I could shake them off my coat; these burs Speak to the people, and they pity her. are in my heart.

Thou art a foul: she robs thee of thy name; Cel. Hem them away.

And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more Ros. I would try; if I could cry hem, and have virtuous, him,

When she is gone: then open not thy lips ; Cel. Conie, come, wrestle with thy affections. Firm and irrevocable is my doom

Ros. 1, they lake the part of a better wrestler Which I have pass'd upen her; she is banish'd. than myself.

Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in despite of a fall. --Bui, turning these jests I cannot live out of her company. out of service, let us talk in good earnest : Is it pos- Duke F. You are a fool:-You, niece, provide sible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so yoursell; strong a liking with old sir' Rowland's youngest son? If you ou -stay the time, upon mine honour,

Ros. The duke my father lov'd his father dearly. And in the greatness of my word, you die.
Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that

(Exeunt Duke Frederick and lords. love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should Cel. O my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou go? hate him, for my father hated his father dearly;' Wilt thou change fathers ? I will give thee mine. yet I hate not Orlando.

I charge thce, be not thou more griev'd than I am. Ros. No, 'faith, hate him not, for my sake.

Ros. I have more cause. Cel. Why should I not ? doth he not deserve well? Cel.

Thou hast not, cousin ; Rus. Lei me love him for that; and do you love Pr’ythee, be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke him, because I do:-Look, here comes the duke. Hath banish'd mc his daughter ? Cel. With his eyes full of anger.


That he hath not.

Cel. No? hath not ? Rosalind lacks then the love Enter Duke Frederick, with lords.

Which teache h thee that thou and I am one: Duke F. Mistress, despatch you with your safest Shall we be sunder’d? shall we part, swect girl? haste,

No; let my fatner seek another heir. And get you from our court.

Therefore devise vith me, how we may fly, Ros.

Me, uncle ? Whither to go, and what to bear with us; Duke F.

You, cousin; And do not seek to take your change upon you, Within these ten days is that thou be'st found To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out; So near our public court aş twenty miles, For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, Thou diest for it.

Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. Ros.

I do beseech your grace, Ros. Why, whither shall we go? Let me the knowledge of iny fault bear with me: Cel.

To seek my uncle. If with myself I hold intelliyence,

Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Or have acquaintance with mine own desires ; Maids as we are, to travel forth so far ?
If that I do not dream, or be not frantic,

Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. (As I do trust I am not,) then, dear uncle,

Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire, Never, so much as in a thought unborn,

And with a kind of umber: smirch my face; Did I offend your highness.

The like do you; so shall we pass along, Duke F.

Thus do all traitors; And never slir assailants. If their purgation did consist in words,


Were it not better, They are as innocent as grace itself:

Because that I am more than common tall, Let it sulhce thee, that I trust thee not.

That I did suit me all points like a man? Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor; A gallant curtle-axes upon my thigh, Tell me, whereon the likelihood depends. A boar-spear in my hand; and (in my heart Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will,) enough.

We'l have a swashings and a martial outside ; Ros. So was I, when your highness took his As many other mannish cowards have, dukedom;

That do outface it with their semblances. So was I, when your highness banish'd him; Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a Treason is not inherited, my lord;

man ? Or, if we did derive it from our friends,

Ros. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own What's that to me? my father was no traitor :

pa ce, Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much, And therefore look you call me, Ganymede. To think my poverty is treacherous.

But what will you be call'd ? Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.

Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state; Duke F. Ay, Celia ; we stay'd her for your sake, No longer Celia, but Aliena. Else had she with her father rang'd along.

Ros. But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal

The clownish fool out of your father's court? (1) Inveterately. (2) Compassion. (3) A dusky, yellow-coloured earth.

(4) Cutlass, (5) Swaggering

so oft

Would he not be a comfort to our travel ? l'Tis right, quoth he; this misery doth part

Cel He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; The flur of company : Anon, a careless herd, ?
Leave me alone to woo him: Lel's away, Fuli of the pasture, jumps along by him,
And get our jewels and our wealth togeiher; And never stays to greei him; Ay, quoth Jaques,
Devise the fil est time, and safest way

Sweep in, you fal and greasy cilizens;
To hide us from pursuit that will be made 'Tis just the fashion: Wherefore do


look After my flight: Now go we in content,

Upon that


and broken ban/ rupl there ? To liberty, and not to banishment. (Exeunt. Thus most invectively he piercelh' 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 trisht the animals, and to kill them up,

In their assi: n'd and native duellinz-place. SCENE I.-The forest of Arden. Enter Duke Duke S. And did you leave him in this contemsenior, Amiens, and other Lurds, in the dress of

plation ? Fortsters.

2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and com

menting Duke S. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in Upon the sobbing deer. exile,

Duke S.

Show me the place; Hath not old custom made this life more sweet I love to cope? him in these sullen fils, Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods For then he's full of malter. Mure free from peril than the envious court? 2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. (Exeunt. Here fcel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference; as the icy lang,

SCENE II.-A room in the palace. Enter Duke And churlish chiding of the winter's wind;

Frederick, Lords, and atlendants. Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Duke F. Can it be possible, that no man saw Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say,

them? This is no flattery: these are counsellors It cannot be: some villains of my court

. That feelingly persuade me what I am.

Are of consent and sufferance in this. Sweet are the uses of adversi'y;

1 Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;

Saw her a-bed; and, in the morning early, And this our life, exempt from public haunt, They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress. Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 2 Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom Sermons in stones, and good in every thing: Ami. I would not change it: Happy is your Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. frace,

Hesperia, the princess' gentlewoman, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune

Confesses, that she secretly o'erheard Into so quiet and so sweet a style.

Your daughter and her cousin much commend Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison ? The parts and graces of the wrestler, And yet it irks me, the poor cappled fools - That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ; Being native burghers of this desert city, And she believes, wherever they are gone, Should, in their own confines, with forked heads! That youth is surely in their company. Have their round haunches gor'd.

Duke F. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant 1 Lord.

Indeed, my lord,

hither; The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;

If he be absent, bring his brother to me, And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp I'll make him find him: do this suddenly: Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you. And let not search and inquisition quail* To-day, my lord of Amiens, and myself, To bring again these foolish runaways. (Exeunt. Did steal behind him, as he lay along Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out

SCENE III.-Before Oliver's house. Enter OrUpon the brook that brawls along this wood:

lando and Adam, meeting. To the which place a poor sequeste'r'd stag,

Orl. Who's there? That from the hunters' aim had ta'en a hurt, Adam. What! my young master ?-0, my genDid come to languish; and, indeed, my lord,

lle master, The wretched animal heav'd forih such groans, O, my sweet master, O you memory That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat or old sir Rowland! why, what make you here? Almost to bursting; and the big round tears Why are you virtuous ? Why do people love you? Cours'd one another down his innocent nose And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant In piteous chase: and thus the hairy lool, Why would you be so fonda to overcome Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,

The bony priser of the humorous duke ? Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, Your praise is come too swiltly home before y Augmenting it with tears.

Know you not, master, to some kind of men Duke S.

But what said Jaques ? Their graces serve them but as enemies ? Did he not moralize this spectacle ?

No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master, . Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. First, for his weeping in the needless stream; 0, what a world is this, when what is comely Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak'st a testament Envenoms him that bears it ? As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more

Orl. Why, what's the matter? To that which had too much": Then, being alone, Adam.

unhappy youth, Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends;

Come not within these doors ; within this roof

The eneiny of all your graces lives :
Barbed arrows. (2) Encounter. (3) Șcurvy.
Sink into dejection.
(5) Memorial.

(6) Inconsiderate.

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