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Rof. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel, and cry like a woman; but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat; therefore, courage, good Aliena.
Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I can go no further.
you; yet I should bear no cross if I did bear you; for, I think, you have no money in your purse.
Rof. Well, this is the forest of Arden.
Cio. 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 Sylvius.
Syl. No, Corin, being old thou can'st not guess;
Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
Syl. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily;
O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe !
[Exit Syl. Ros. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy wound, I have by hard adventure found my own.
Clo. And I mine; I remember, when I was in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming o’nights to Jane Smile ; and I remember the kissing of her batlet, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chop'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, wear these for
fake. We that are true lovers run into strange capers ; but all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly:
Rof. Thou speak’st wiser than thou art ware of.
Clo. Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit, till I break my shins against it.
Rof. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion is much upon my fashion.
Clo. And mine ; but it grows something stale with me.
Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond man,
Clo. Holla; you, clown !
. Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you
Cor. Fair sir, I pity her,
But I am shepherd to another man,
Rof. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?
Rof: I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
Cel. And we will mend thy wages.
Come hither, come hither, come hither;
Here fall he fee
But winter and rough weather. Jaq. More, more, I pr’ythee, more.
Ami. It will make you melancholy, monsieur Jaques. Jaq. I thank it; more, I pr’ythee, more: I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weafel sucks eggs : more, I pr’ythee, more.
Ami. My voice is rugged, I know, I cannot please you.
Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do defire you sing; come, come, another stanzo: call you ’em stanzo's ?
Ami. What you will, monsieur Jaques.
Ami. More at your request, than to please myself.
Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you ; but that they call compliment is like the encounter of two dog-apes : and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks, I have given him a penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks... Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues
Ami. Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the while; the duke will dine under this tree: he hath been all this day to look you.
Jaq. And I have been all this day, to avoid him. He is too disputable for my company: I think of as many matters as he, but I give heav'n thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come.
Here shall be. See
Faq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I made yesterday in despite of my invention.
Ami. And I'll sing it.
If it do come to pass,
Here mall he see
Gross fools as he,
An if he will come to me.
Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. I'll
(Exeunt. SCENE VI.
Enter Orlando, and Adam.
Adam. Dear master, I can go no further : 0, I die for food ! here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewel, kind master.
Orla. 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 conceit is nearer death, than thy powers. For my fake, be comfortable ; hold death a while at the arm's end: I will be here with thee presently; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I'll give thee leave to die : but if thou dieft 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
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