But what will you be call'd?

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

Rof. But, coufin, what if we affay'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 purfuit that will be made After my flight now go we in content To liberty, and not to banishment.

[Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I.

ARDEN FOREST.

Enter Duke fenior, Amiens, and two or three lords like

forefters.

DUKE Senior.

OW, my co-mates, and brothers in exile,

Hath not old cuftom 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,

2

2 In former editions, Here feel we not the penalty. What was the penalty of Adam, hinted at by our poet? The being fenfible of the difference of the feafons. The Duke fays, the cold and effects of the winter feelingly perfuade him what he is. How does he not then feel the penalty? Doubtless, the text must be reftored as I have corrected it: and 'tis obvious in the course of these notes, how often not and but by mistake have chang'd place in our author's former editions. THEOBALD.

The

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 fhrink with cold, I fmile, and fay,
This is no flattery: these are counsellors,
That feelingly perfuade me what I am.
Sweet are the uses of adverfity,

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head: 3
And this our life, exempt from publick haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in ftones, and good in every thing.
Ami. I would not change it.

grace,

Happy is your

That can tranflate the ftubbornnefs of fortune
Into fo quiet and so sweet a style.

Duke Sen. Come, fhall we go and kill us venison? 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.

3 Which, like the toad, ugly and venemous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head :]

It was the current opinion in Shakespeare's time, that in the head of an old toad was to be found a ftone, or pearl, to which great virtues were afcribed. This ftone has been often fought, but nothing has been found more than accidental or perhaps morbid indurations of the fkull. JOHNSON.

In a book called A Green Foreft, or a Natural History, &c. by John Maplett, 1567, is the following account of this imaginary gem: "In this ftone is apparently feene verie often the verie "forme of a tode, with defpotted and coloured feete, but thofe uglye and defufedly. It is available against envenoming.".

46

4

STEEVENS.

I would not change it.] Mr. Upton, not without probability, gives thefe words to the Duke, and makes Amiens begin, Happy

is your grace. JOHNSON.

with forked beads] i. e. with arrows, the points of which were barbed.

STEEVENS.

1 Lord.

1 Lord. Indeed, my lord,

The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;
And, in that kind, fwears you do more ufurp
Than doth your brother, that hath banish'd you.
To-day my lord of Amiens, and myself,
Did fteal behind him, as he lay along

Under an oak, whofe antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood:
To the which place a poor fequeftred 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 fuch groans
That their discharge did ftretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nofe
In piteous chafe: and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on the extremeft verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.

Duke Sen. But what faid Jaques?
Did he not moralize this fpectacle?

I Lord. O yes, into a thousand fimilies. First, for his weeping in the needless stream; Poor Deer, quoth he, thou mak'ft a teftament As worldlings do, giving thy fum of more To that which had too much. Then, being alone, Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends; 'Tis right, quoth he; thus mifery doth part The flux of company. Anon, a carelefs herd, Full of the pasture, jumps along by him, And never stays to greet him: Ay, quoth Jaques, Sweep on, you fat and greafy citizens ; 'Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there? Thus moft invectively he pierceth through The body of the country, city, court, Yea, and of this our life: fwearing, that we

Are

Are mere ufurpers, tyrants, and what's worse,
To fright the animals, and to kill them up
In their affign'd and native dwelling place.
Duke Sen. And did you leave him in this contem
plation?

2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and comment. ing,

Upon the fobbing deer.

Duke Sen. Show me the place;

I love to cope him in thefe fullen fits.
For then he's full of matter.

2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight.

SCENE II.

THE PALACE.

Enter Duke Frederick with Lords.

[Exeunt.

Duke. Can it be poffible that no man saw them? It cannot be. Some villains of my court Are of confent and fufferance in this.

1 Lord. I cannot hear of any that did fee 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 roynifh clown, at whom fo oft

Your Grace was wont to laugh, is alfo miffing.
Hefperia, the princefs' gentlewoman,
Confeffes, that the fecretly o'er-heard
Your daughter and her coufin much commend
The parts and graces of the wrestler,
That did but lately foil the finewy Charles;
And the believes, where ever they are gone,

-to cope him,] To encounter him; to engage with him.

JOHNSON.
That

That youth is furely in their company.

Duke. Send to his brother: fetch that gallant hi

ther;

If he be absent, bring his brother to me,
I'll make him find him. Do this fuddenly;
And let not fearch and inquifition quail
To bring again these foolish runaways.

SCENE III.

OLIVER'S HOUSE.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

Orla. Who's there?

[Exeunt,

Adam. What! my young mafter? Oh, my gentle master,

Oh, my sweet mafter, 7 O you memory

Of old fir Rowland! why, what make you here? Why are you virtuous? why do people love you? And wherefore are you gentle, ftrong, and valiant? Why would you be fo fond to overcome

The bony prifer of the humorous Duke?

O you memory] Shakespeare often ufes memory for memorial: and Beaumont and Fletcher fometimes. So in the Humorous Lieutenant;

"I knew then how to seek your memories.”

Again, in The Atheift's Tragedy, by C. Turner, 1611;

"And with his body place that memory

"Of noble Charlemont."

And in Byron's Tragedy;

"That ftatue will I prize past all the jewels

"Within the cabinet of Beatrice,

"The memory of my graudame."

STEEVENS,

* In the former editions, The BONNY prifer] We fhould

read BONEY prijer. For this wreftler is characterised for his ftrength

and bulk, not for his gaiety or good-humour.

So Milton, Giants of mighty bone. JOHNSON.
VOL. III.

S

WARBURTON.

Your