42

When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in corners thrown:
Take that; and He that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;
All this I give you. Let me be your servant:
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty;
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility;
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you;
I'll do the service of a younger man
In all your business and necessities.

51

Orl. O good old man, how well in thee ap

pears

The constant service of the antique world,
When service swet for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweat but for promotion; 60
And having that, do choke their service up
Even with the having: 't is not so with thee.
But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossom yield
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.
But come thy ways; we'll go along together;
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,
We'll light upon some settled low content.

Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee, To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.— 70 [Exit Orlando. Adam goes into the house, and immediately returns with pouch, staff, and hat.

From seventeen years till now almost fourscore
Here lived I, but now live here no more.
At seventeen years many their fortunes seek;
But at fourscore it is too late a week:
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better
Than to die well, and not my master's debtor.
[Exit.

75

Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear you: yet I should bear no cross,2 if I did bear you; for I think you have no money in your purse.

Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden.

Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I; when I was at home, I was in a better place: but travellers must be content.

Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone.— Look you, who comes here;

A young man and an old in solemn talk.

Enter CORIN and SILVIUS.

20

Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still.

Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her!

Cor. I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now. Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess;

30

Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover
As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow:
But if thy love were ever like to mine,-
As sure I think did never man love so,-
How many actions most ridiculous
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy ?3
Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily:
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into,
Thou hast not lov'd:

Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,
Thou hast not lov'd:

Or if thou hast not broke from company
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not lov'd.—O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!
[Exit.

Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound,

I have by hard adventure found mine own. Touch. And I mine. I remember, when I was in love I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile: and I remember the kissing of her batlet, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chapp'd hands had milk'd: [and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her; from whom I took two cods, and, giving her them again, said with weeping tears,1 "Wear these for my sake."] We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly. Ros. Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of.

Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it. 60 Ros. Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion

Is much upon my fashion.

Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale with me.

Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond

And little recks to find the way to heaven
By doing deeds of hospitality:

Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed,

Are now on sale; and at our sheepcote now, By reason of his absence, there is nothing That you will feed on; but what is, come see, And in my voice most welcome shall you be. Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?

Cor. That young swain that you saw here but erewhile,

That little cares for buying any thing.

90

Orl. Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, I will either be food for it, or bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit1 is nearer death than thy powers. For my sake be comfortable; hold death awhile at the arm's end: I will be here with thee presently; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I will give thee leave to die: but if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said! thou look'st cheerly; and I'll be with thee quickly. Yet thou liest in the bleak air: come, I will bear thee to some shelter; and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! [Exeunt.

SCENE VII. Another part of the forest (the same as in Scene V.). A table set out.

Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and others. Duke S. I think he be transform'd into a beast;

For I can no where find him like a man. First Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence:

Here was he merry, hearing of a song.

Duke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.2 Go, seek him: tell him I would speak with him. First Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach.

Enter JAQUES.

Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this,

10

That your poor friends must woo your company! What, you look merrily!

Jaq. A fool, a fool!-I met a fool i' the forest, A motley fool;-a miserable world!As I do live by food, I met a fool; Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms, and yet a motley fool. "Good morrow, fool," quoth I. "No, sir," quoth he,

1 Conceit, fancy.

2 Discord in the spheres, referring to the old idea of the music of the spheres.

"Tis but an hour ago since it was nine;
And after one hour more 't will be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
And thereby hangs a tale." When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral2 on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep-contemplative;
And I did laugh sans intermission
An hour by his dial.-O noble fool!
A worthy fool!-Motley 's the only wear.
Duke S. What fool is this?

30

70

Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.
Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride,
That can therein tax any private party?
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,
Till that the wearer's very means do ebb?
What woman in the city do I name,
When that I say, the city-woman bears
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?
Who can come in, and say that I mean her,
When such a one as she, such is her neigh-
bour?

Or what is he of basest function,

6

79

That says his bravery is not on my cost-
Thinking that I mean him-but therein suits
His folly to the mettle of my speech?
There then; how then? what then? Let me
see wherein

My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right,

Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free, Why, then my taxing like a wild-goose flies, Unclaim'd of any man.—But who comes here?

Enter ORLANDO with his sword drawn. Orl. Forbear, and eat no more! Jaq. Why, I have eat none yet. Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd. Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of? Duke S. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by