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 schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad

And then the justice,

Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard;1
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth.
In fair round belly with good capon lin❜d,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;2
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,3

With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; 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 mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

Reënter ORLANDO with ADAM.

Duke S. Welcome.

And let him feed.

Set down your venerable burden,

1 "Bearded like the pard," i.e., with long, pointed mustaches like the leopard's feelers.

2" Full of wise saws," etc., i.e., crammed with wise sayings and commonplace illustrations.

3 The name of a comic character in Italian plays.

Orlando. I thank you most for him.

Adam.

So had you need ;

I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
Duke S. Welcome; fall to. I will not trouble you,
As yet, to question you about your fortunes.

Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing.

SONG.

Amiens.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,

Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude,

Thy tooth is not so keen,

Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.

Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly!
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly;
Then, heigh-ho, the holly!

This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh

As benefits forgot:

Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remember'd not.1

Heigh-ho! sing, etc.

Duke S. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son,

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 am 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.

[Exeunt.

1 "As friend," etc., i.e., as what an unremembered friend feels.

ACT III.

SCENE I. A Room in the Palace.

Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, and OLIVER.

Duke F. Not see him since ? Sir, sir, that cannot be; But were I not the better part made mercy,

I should not seek an absent argument 1

1

Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it:
Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is;

Seek him with candle;2 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 which thou dost call thine.
Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands,

Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth

Of what we think against thee.

Oliver. O that your highness knew my heart in this!

I never lov'd my brother in my

life.

Duke F. More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors;

And let my officers of such a nature

Make an extent 3 upon his house and lands.
Do this expediently, and turn him going.

SCENE II. The Forest.

Enter ORLANDO, with a paper.

[Exeunt.

Orlando. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love.— And thou, thrice-crowned Queen of Night, survey

3" Make an extent," i.e., seize by writ of attachment.

4 Expeditiously.

5 "Thrice-crowned Queen of Night," i.e., the moon; known as Luna or Cynthia in heaven, Hecate or Proserpina in the lower regions, and on earth as Diana, who was also goddess of the chase and of chastity.

With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,
Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sway.-
O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books,

And in their barks my thoughts I'll character;1
That every eye which in this forest looks,
Shall see thy virtue witness'd everywhere.-
Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree
The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive 2 she.

[Exit.

Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE.

Corin. And how like you this shepherd's life, Master Touchstone?

Touchstone. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught.3 In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. 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 humor well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd ?

Corin. No more but that I know the more one sickens the worse at ease he is, and that he that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends; that the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep, and that a great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred.

Touchstone. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in court, shepherd ?

Corin. No, truly.

Touchstone. Then thou art damn'd.

Corin. Nay, I hope.

1 Carve.

Complain," etc., i.e., complain of not having been well brought up.

Touchstone. Truly, thou art damn'd, like an ill-roasted egg all on one side.

Corin. For not being at court?

Your reason.

Touchstone. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never saw'st good manners; if thou never saw'st good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous 1 state, shepherd.

Corin. Not a whit, Touchstone; those that are good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country as the behavior of the country is most mockable at the court. You told me you salute not at the court but you kiss 2 your hands; would be uncleanly if courtiers were shepherds.

Touchstone. Instance,3 briefly; come, instance.

that courtesy

Corin. Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their fells,5 you know, are greasy.

Touchstone. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat ? and is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow. A better instance, I say; come.

Corin. Besides, our hands are hard.

Touchstone. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again. A more sounder instance, come.

Corin. 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 perfum'd with civet.7

Touchstone. Most shallow man! thou worms'-meat, in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed! Learn of the wise, and perpend:8 civet is of a baser birth than tar. Mend the instance, shepherd. • Corin. You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll rest.

Touchstone. Wilt thou rest damn'd? God help thee, shaliow man ! God make incision in thee ! thou art raw.

Corin. Sir, I am a true laborer. I earn that I eat, get that I

1 Perilous.

2 "But you kiss," i.e., without kissing.

4 Continually.

3 Give an example; prove it.
5 Skins.
6 Double comparatives are used by all Elizabethan writers.

? A perfume derived from the civet cat.

8 Consider.

9 Alluding to the old practice of bloodletting as a cure for most diseases.