Your praife is come too fwiftly home before you. Know you not, mafter, to fome kind of men Their graces ferve them but as enemies?

No more do yours; your virtues, gentle mafter,
Are fanctified 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 thefe doors; within this roof
The enemy of all your graces lives:

Your brother (no; no brother-yet the fon,-
Yet not the fon;-I will not call him fon
Of him I was about to call his father)

Hath heard your praifes; 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 no place, this houfe is but a butchery;
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.

Orla. Why, whither, Adam, wouldft thou have
me go?

Adam. No matter whither, fo you come not here. Orla. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food?

Or, with a base, and boisterous fword enforce

A thievifh living on the common road?

This I must do, or know not what to do:
Yet this I will not do, do how I can;

I rather will fubje&t me to the malice

Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother.

Adam. But do not fo. I have five hundred crowns, The thrifty hire I fav'd under your father,

-diverted blood.] Blood turned out of the course of nature.

JOHNSON.

Which I did ftore, to be my foster nurse
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 fparrow,
Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold,
All this I give you; let me be your servant;
Tho' I look old, yet I am ftrong and lusty :
For in my youth I never did apply

Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
Nor did I with unbafhful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility;
Therefore my age is as a lufty winter,
Frofty, but kindly. Let me go with you;
I'll do the fervice of a younger man

In all your bufinefs and neceffities.

Orla. Oh! good old man, how well in thee appears

The conftant fervice of the antique world;
When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will fweat, but for promotion;
And, having that, do choak their fervice up
Even with the having. It is not fo with thee.
But, poor old man, thou prun'ft a rotten tree,
That cannot fo much as a bloffom 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 fome fettled low content.
Adam. Mafter, go on; and I will follow thee
To the last gafp with truth and loyalty.
From feventeen years 'till now almoft fourfcore
Here lived I, but now live here no more.

1 Even with the baving.] Even with the promotion gained by` fervice is fervice extinguished.

JOHNSON.

At seventeen years many their fortunes feek;
But at fourscore, it is too late a week:
Yet fortune cannot recompence me better
Than to die well, and not my master's debtor.

[Exeunt.

Enter Rofalind in boy's cloaths for Ganimed; Celia dreft like a fhepherdess for Aliena, and Touchstone the Clown.

Rof. O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits?
Clo. I care not for my fpirits, if my legs were not

weary.

Rof. I could find in my heart to difgrace my man's apparel, and cry like a woman: but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itfelf courageous to petticoat; therefore, courage, good Aliena.

Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I can go no further. Clo. For my part, I had rather bear with you, than bear you: yet I fhould bear no cross, if I did bear you; for, I think you have no mony in your purfe. Rof. Well, this is the forest of Arden.

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

20 Jupiter, how merry are my spirits? And yet, within the space of one intervening line, the fays, the could find in her heart to difgrace her man's apparel, and cry like a woman. Sure, this is but a very bad symptom of the brifkness of spirits: rather a direct proof of the contrary difpofition. Mr. Warburton and I, concurred in conjecturing it should be, as I have reformed in the text: -how weary are my Spirits? And the Clown's reply makes this reading certain. THEOBALD.

3

-yet I bould bear no cross,] A cross was a piece of money ftamped with a cross. On this our author is perpetually quibbling. STEEVENS.

Rof.

Rof. Ay, be fo, good Touchftone. Look you, who comes here; a young man, and an old in folemn talk.

Enter Corin and Silvius.

Cor. That is the way to make her fcorn you ftill.
Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'ft how I do love her!
Cor. I partly guefs; for I have lov'd ere now.
Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess,
Tho' in thy youth thou waft as true a lover,
As ever figh'd upon a midnight pillow:
But if thy love were ever like to mine,
(As, fure, I think, did never man love fo)
How many actions moft ridiculous
Haft thou been drawn to by thy fantafy?

Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love fo heartily.
If thou remember'ft not the flightest folly,*
That ever love did make thee run into,
Thou haft not lov'd:

Or if thou haft not fat as I do now,
Wearying the hearer in thy miftrefs' praise,
Thou haft not lov'd:

Or if thou haft not broke from company,
Abruptly, as my paffion now makes me;
Thou haft not lov'd :-Oh Phebe, Phebe, Phebe.

[Exit Sil.

4 If thou remember'ft not the flighteft folly,] I am inclined to believe that from this paffage Suckling took the hint of his song.

Honeft lover, whosoever,

If in all thy love there ever

Were one wav'ring thought, thy flame

Were not even, fill the fame.

Rof. Alas, poor fhepherd! fearching 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 fword upon a ftone, and bid him take that for coming o'nights to Jane Smile: and I remember the kiffing of her batlet, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milk'd: and I remember the wooing of a peafcod inftead of her; from whom I took two cods, and giving her them again, faid with weeping tears, Wear thefe for my fake. We, that are true lovers, run into ftrange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, fo is all nature in love, mortal in folly. 7

Rof. Thou fpeak'ft wifer, than thou art 'ware of. Clo. Nay, I fhall ne'er be aware of mine own wit, 'till I break my fhins against it.

Rf. Jove! Jove! this fhepherd's paffion is much upon my fashion.

Clo. And mine; but it grows fomething ftale with

me.

Cel. I pray you, one of you queftion yon man, If he for gold will give us any food;

I faint almoft to death.

Clo. Holla; you, clown!

Rof. Peace, fool; he's not thy kinfman.
Cor. Who calls?

5 -batlet,- ]

their coarse cloaths.

6 ---tro cod:

The inftrument with which washers beat
JOHNSON.

For cods it would be more like fenfe to read peas, which having the fhape of pearls, refembled the common prefents of lovers. JOHNSON.

7

-fo is all nature in love, mortal in folly.] This expreffion I do not well underftand. In the middle counties, mortal, from mort, a great quantity, is ufed as a particle of amplification; as mortal tall, mortal lttle. Of this fenfe I believe Shakespeare takes advantage to produce one of his darling equivocations. Thus the meaning will be, fo is all nature in love abounding in folly.

JOHNSON.
Cla.