Duke Sen. What would you have? Your gentleness shall force, More than your force move us to gentleness.

Orla. I almost die for food, and let me have it.

Duke Sen. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.
Orla. Speak you so gently? pardon me, I pray you;

I thought that all things had been savage here,
And therefore put I on the countenance
Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are
That in this desart inaccessible,
Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
Lose and neglect the creepin

creeping hours of time;

If ever you have look'd on better days;
If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church
If ever fate at any good man's feast;
If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear,
And known what 'tis to pity, and be pitied;
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be,
In the which hope I blush and hide my sword.

Duke Sen. True is it that we have feen better days,
And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church,
And fate at good men's feasts, and wip'd our eyes
Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd:
And therefore fit you down in gentleness,
And take upon command what help we have,
That to your wanting may be ministred.

Orla. Then but forbear your food a little while,
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn,
And give it food. There is an old poor man,
Who after me hath many a weary step

Limp'd in pure love; 'till he be first suffic'd,
Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger,
I will not touch a bit.

Duke Sen. Go find him out,

And we will nothing waste 'till your return.

Orla. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good comfort!

SCENE

IX.

[Exit.

Duke Sen. Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy:

This wide and univerfal theatre

Presents more woful pageants than the scene

Wherein we play.

Jag

Jag. All the world is a stage,
And all the men and women meerly players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts:
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms :
And then the whining school-boy with his satchel,
And shining morning-face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his mistress' eye-brow. Then a foldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the Justice
In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wife faws and modern instances,
And so he plays his part. The fixth age shifts
Into the lean and flipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on fide;
His youthful hose, well fav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk shanks; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness, and meer oblivion,
Sans teeth, fans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.

SCENE X. Enter Orlando with Adam. Duke Sen. Welcome: set down your venerable burthen, And let him feed.

Orla. I thank you most for him.

Adam. So had you need,

I scarce can speak to thank you for my felf.

Duke Sen. Welcome, fall to: I will not trouble you,

As yet to question you about your fortunes.

Give us some musick, and, good coufin, fing.

SONG.

Duke Sen. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's fon, As you have whisper'd faithfully you were, And as mine eye doth his effigies witness, Most truly limn'd, and living in your face, Be truly welcome hither. I'm the Duke That lov'd your father. The residue of your fortune Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man, Thou art right welcome, as thy master is; Support him by the arm; give me your hand, And let me all your fortunes understand.

Duke.

[Exeunt

АСТ III. SCENE Ι.
The Palace. Enter Duke, Lords, and Oliver.

N

OT see him fince? Sir, Sir, that cannot be :
But were I not the better part made mercy,

I should not seek an absent argument
Of my revenge, thou préfent: but look to it,
Find out thy brother wheresoe'er he is,
Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more
To seek a living in our territory.
Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine,
Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands,
'Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth

Of

Of what we think against thee.

:

Oli. O that your Highness knew my heart in this :

I never lov'd my brother in my life.

Duke. More villain thou.

Well, push him out of doors,

And let my officers of such a nature

Make an extent upon his house and lands:

Do this expediently, and turn him going.

going.

SCENE II. The Forest.

Enter Orlando.

of

[Exeunt.

Orla. Hang there, my verse, in witness my love
And thou, thrice crowned Queen of night, survey

With thy chafte eye, from thy pale sphere above,
Thy huntress name that my full life doth sway.
O Rofalind, these trees shall be my books,
And in their barks my thoughts I'll character,
That every eye, which in this forest looks,
Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where.

Run, run, Orlando, carve on every tree

[Exit.

The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. SCENE III. Enter Corin and Clown. Cor. And how like you this fhepherd's life, Mr. TouchStone?

Clo. Truly, shepherd, in respect of it self, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my ftomach. Haft any philosophy in thee, shepherd ?

Cor. No more, but that I know the more one fickens, the worse at ease he is: and that he that wants mony, means, and content, is without three good friends. That the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn: that good pafture makes fat sheep; and that a great cause of the night, is lack of the fun that he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art, may complain of bad breeding, and comes of a very dull kindred.

Clo. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in

court, shepherd ?

Cor

Cor. No truly.

Clo. Then thou art damn'd.

Cor. Nay, I hope

Clo. Truly thou art damn'd, like an ill-roafted egg, all

on one fide.

Cor. For not being at court? your reason.

Clo. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never saw'ft good manners; if thou never faw'ft good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is fin, and fin is damnation: thou art in a parlous state, shepherd.

Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone : those that are good manners at the court, are as ridiculous in the country, as the behaviour of the country is most mockable at the court. You told me, you salute not at the court, but you kiss your hands; that courtefie would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds.

Clo. Inftance, briefly; come, inftance.

Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their fels, you know, are greafie.

Clo. Why, do not your courtiers hands sweat? and is not the grease of mutton as wholsome as the sweat of a man ? shallow, shallow; a better instance, I say: come.

Cor. Befides, our hands are hard.

Clo. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again: a founder instance, come.

Cor. And they are often tarr'd over with the surgery of our sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? the courtier's hands are perfumed with civet.

Clo. Most shallow man: thou worms-meat, in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed ; learn of the wife and perpend; civet is of a baser birth than tar; the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd.

Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll reft. Clo. Wilt thou rest damn'd? God help thee, shallow man; God make incifion in thee, thou art raw.

Cor. Sir, I am a true labourer; I earn that I cat, get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness; glad of other men's good, content with my harm; and the greateft of my pride is, to see my ewes graze, and my lambs fuck,

Cle,