Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods Which, like the toad, ugly, and venomous, Amiens. Happy is your grace, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Duke. Come, shall we go and kill us venison? Jaques. Indeed, my lord, I have often griev'd at that; And, in that kind think you do more usurp, Behind an oak, whose antique root peeps out Cours'd one another down his innocent nose, Ďuke. But what said you? Did you not moralize this spectacle? . Jaques. O, yes, into a thousand similies. The body of the country, city, court, I love to cope you in these sullen fits, [Exeunt. SCENE III. *A Room in the Palace. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with LORDS. Fred. Can it be possible, that no man saw them? 1 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 roynish clown, at whom so oft Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. Your daughter, and her cousin, much commend The parts and graces of the wrestler, That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles; And she believes, wherever they are gone, That youth is surely in their company. Fred. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hị ther; I'll make him find him-do this suddenly; And let not search and inquisition quail, [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The Forest. Enter JAQUES, AMIENS, and three other LORDS, Jaques. More, more; I pr'ythee more. Amiens. It will make you melancholy, Jaques.. Jaques. I thank it; I do love it better than laughing. Amiens. Those, that are in the extremity of either, are abominable fellows, and betray themselves to every modern censure, worse than drunkards. Jaques. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation: nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all these; but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects; and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which, my after rumination wraps me, is a most humorous sadness.-Sing, I pr'ythee sing. Amiens. My voice is rugged: I know I cannot please you. Jaques. I do not desire you to please me, I desire you to sing.—I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel can suck eggs. Come, warble, warble. SONG.-AMIENS. Under the greenwood tree, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither; Here shall he see No enemy, But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live i'the sun. And pleas'd with what he gets, Here shall he see No enemy, But winter and rough weather. Jaques. I'll go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt. Amiens. And we'll go seek the duke: his banquet is prepared. [Exeunt severally. SCENE V. The Forest of Arden. Enter ROSALIND, in Boy's Clothes, for Ganymede; CELIA, dressed like a Shepherdess, and TOUCHSTONE. Ros. O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits! not weary. Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel, and cry like a woman: but I must comfort |