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 feven ages. At firft the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms:
And then the whining fchool-boy with his fatchel,
And shining morning-face, creeping like fnail
Unwillingly to fchool. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his miftrefs' eye-brow. Then a foldier,
Full of ftrange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, fudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the Juftice.
In fair round belly, with good capon lin❜d,
With eyes fevere, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wife faws and modern inftances,
And so he plays his part. The fixth age shifts
Into the lean and flipper'd pantaloon,
With fpectacles on nofe, and pouch on fide;
His youthful hofe, well fav'd, a world too wide
For his fhrunk thanks; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whift:es in his found. Laft fcene of all,
That ends this ftrange eventful history,
Is fecond childishness, and meer oblivion,
Sans teeth, fans eyes, fans tafte, fans every thing.
SCENE X. Enter Orlando with Adam.
Duke Sen. Welcome: fet down your venerable burden,
And let him feed.

Orla. I thank you moft for him.

Adam. So had you need,

Ifcarce can fpeak to thank you for myself,

Duke Sen. Welcome, fall to: I will not trouble you, As yet to queftion you about your fortunes.

Give us fome mufick, and, good coufin, fing.

SONG.

As man's ingratitude;

Thy tooth is not so keen,

Thou caufeft not that teen,

Altho' thy breath be rude.

Heigh bo, fing beigh bo, unto the green bolly;
Moft friendship is feigning; most loving meer folly:
Then beigb ho, the bolly,

This life is moft jolly.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That doft not bite fo nigh
As benefits forgot :

Tho' thou the waters warp,
Thy fting is not fo fharp

As friend rememb'ring not.

Heigh bo, fing, &c.

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,
Moft truly limn'd, and living in your face,
But truly welcome hither. I'm the Duke

That lov'd your father. The refidue 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.

ACT III.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

The Palace. Enter Duke, Lords, and Oliver.

N%

OT fee him fince? Sir, Sir, that cannot be : But were I not the better part made mercy,` I fhould not feek an absent argument

Of my revenge, thou prefent: but look to it,
Find out thy brother wherefoe'er he is,
Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more
To feek a living in our territory.

Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine,
Worth feizure, do we feize 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 fuch a nature

Make an extent upon his house and lands:

Do this expediently, and turn him going.

SCENE II. The Foreft.
Enter Orlando.

[Exeunt.

Orla. Hang there, my verfe, in witnefs of my love: And thou, thrice crowned Queen of night, furvey With thy chafte eye, from thy pale sphere above,

Thy huntress' name that my full life doth fway. O Rofalind, these trees fhall be my books,

And in their barks my thoughts I'll character, That every eye, which in this foreft looks,

Shall fee thy virtue witness'd every where.

Run, run, Orlando, carve on every tree.

The fair, the chafte, and unexpreffive fhe. [Exit. SCENE III. Enter Corin and Clown. Cor. And how like you this fhepherd's life, Mr. Touchftone?

Clo. Truly, fhepherd, in refpect of it felf, it is a good life; but in refpect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In refpect that it is folitary, 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 refpect 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 philofophy in thee, shepherd ?

Cor. No more, but that I know the more one fickens, the worse at eafe 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 fheep; 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 philofopher. Waft ever in court, fhepherd ?

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 waft at court, thou never faw'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 ftate, fhepherd.

Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone: thofe that are good manners at the court, are as ridiculous in the country, as the behaviour of the country is moft mockable at the court. You told me, you falute not at the court, but you kifs your that courtefie would be uncleanly, hands; if courtiers were fhepherds.

Clo. Inftance, briefly; come, inftance.

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

Clo. Why, do not your courtiers hands fweat and is not the grease of mutton as wholfome as the sweat of a man? fhallow, fhallow ; a better inftance, I fay come. Cor. Befides, our hands are hard.

Clo. Your lips.will feel them the fooner. Shallow again: a founder inftance, come.

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

Clo. Moft fhallow man: thou worms-meat, in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed: learn of the wife and perpend; civet is of a bafer birth than tar; the very uncleanly Aux of a cat. Mend the inftance, fhepherd.

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

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

little:

38

a medler

for y

Ch. That is another fimple fin in y
and the ranis together,and to offer to ge
copulation of cattle; to be a bawd to a
to betray a fhe-lamb of a twelvemonth of
pated old cuckoldly ram, out of all reafonat
thou be'st not damn'd for this, the devil him
no fhepherds; I cannot fee else how thou fhou
Cor. Here comes young Mr. Ganimed, my new
brother.

SCENE IV. Enter Rofalind with a paper.
Rof. From the east to the western Inde,
No jewel is like Rofalind.

Her worth being mounted on the wind,
Through all the world bears Rofalind.
All the pictures fairest lin'd,
Are but black to Rofalind;
Let no face be kept in mind,

But the face of Rofalind,

Clo. I'll rhime you fo eight years together; dinners, and fuppers, and fleeping hours excepted: it is the right butter. women's rate to market,

Rof. Out, fool!

Cle. For a tafte,

If a bart doth lack a bind,
Let bim feek out Rofalind.
If the cat will after kind,
So be fure will Rofalind.
Winter garments must be lin'd,
So muft fender Rofalind.
They that reap muft fheaf and bind,
Then to cart with Rofalind.
Sweetest nut bath fowreft rind,
Such a nut is Rofalind

He that feeteft rofe will find,

Muft find love's prick, and Rofalind.

This is then very false gallop of verses; why do you infect your felf with them?

Rof. Peace, you dull fool, I found them on a tree.
Clo. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.

Rof. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with
VOL. III.