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That do outface it with their semblances.

Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a man?

Rof. 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?

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

Ref. 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 Aight : Now go we in content;
To liberty, and not to banishment.

[Exeunt.

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A CT 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 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,
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

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 stubborness of fortune
Into lo quiet and so sweet a stile.

Duke Sen. Come, shall we go and kill us venifon?
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 hunters' 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
In piteous chase : and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
forked heads]—barbed arrows. • brawls)--purls, murmurs.

Stood

03

extrea

Stood on the extreamest 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 makjt 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, . Duke Sen. And did you leave him in this contemplation ?

i Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting Upon the fobbing deer.

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

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

w to cope bim]-encounter, meet with him.

SCENE

S CE NE II,

The Palace.
Enter Duke Frederick with Lords.
Duke. Can it be possible, that no man saw them?
It cannot be : fome 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 Y roynish clown, at whom so oft
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 finewy Charles ;
And she believes, wherever they are gone,
That youth is surely in their company.

Duke. Send to his brother's; fetch that gallant hither; 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.

S CE N E III.

Oliver's House..

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

master, * Jufferance]-connivance.

y roynish]-{curvy, sorry. ? quail]-flag, droop, Nacken. O4

Oh,

Oh, my sweet master, O you a 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 b 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!

Orla. Why, what's the matter?

Adam. O unhappy youth,
Come not within these doors ; within this roof
The enemy of all your graces lives :
Your brother—(no, no brother ; yet the son
Yet not the son ;-I will not call him fon -
Of him I was about to call his father)
Hath heard your praises; and this night he means
To burn the lodging where you use to lie,
And you within it: if he fail of that,
He will have other means to cut you off :
I overheard him, and his practices.
This is d 110 place, this house is but a butchery;
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.

Orla. Why, whicher, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?
Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here.

Orla. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food ? Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce A thievish living on the common road ?

fond]-imprudent.

memory]—memorial.
i bonny prize fighter, wrestler.
d place, j-of refidence for you:

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