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go to find


In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword.

Duke Sen. True is it, that we have seen better days; And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church ; And sate 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

And give it food. There is an old poor man,
Who after me bath many a weary fep
Limp'd in pure love; 'till he be firft fuffic'd,
Oppressed 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 you return.
Orl. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good com.

fort! Duke Sen. Thou seest, we are not all alone unhappy: This wide and universal Theatre Presents more woful pageants, than the scene Wherein we play in.

ag. All the world's 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 fatchel, And thining 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 lind, With eyes severe, and beard of forinal cut,



Full of wise faws and modern instances,
And so he plays his part. The fixth age shifts
Into the lean and Nipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on fide ;
His youthful hose well fav’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 meer oblivion,
Sans teeth, fans eyes, sans taste, fans every thing.

Enter Orlando, with Adam. Duke Sen. Welcome: fet down your venerable bur

then, And let him feed.

Orla. I thank you most for him.

Adam. So had you need,
I scarce can speak to thank you for


self. Duke Sen. Welcome, fall to : I will not trouble you, As yet to question you about your fortunes. Give us some mufick; and, good cousin, sing.


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,

Altho' thy breath be rude.
Heigh ho! Jing, beigb ho! unto the green holly;
Most friendship is feigning ; most loving meer folly:

Then heigh bo, the holly!

This life is most jolly.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That doft not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot :



Tho' thou the waters warp,
Thy fling is not to sharp

As friend remembred not.
Heigh ho! sing, &c.
Duke Sen. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's

As you have whisper'd faithfully you were,
And as mine eye doth his efigies 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. [Exeunt.

А с CT



Enter Duke, Lords, and Oliver.



OT see him since? 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 present : 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 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 what we think against thee.

Oli. Oh, 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. [Excunt.

SCEN E charges to the FOREST.

Orla. of

Enter Orlando. Orla.

And thou thrice-crowned Queen of Night

survey, 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 ; That every eye, which in this Forest looks,

Shall fee chy virtue witness’d every where. Run, run, Orlando, carve, on every tree, The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive She. [Exit.

Enter Corin and Clown. Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, Mr. Touchftone ?

Clo. Truly, shepherd, in respect of it felf, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect 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 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 stomach. 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 Sun : that he, that hath learned no wit by nature nor art, may complain of good breeding, or comes of a very duli kindred.

Clo. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Waft ever in Court, shepherd ?

Cor. No, truly. Clo. Then thou art damn'd. Cor. Nay, I hope Clo. Truly, thou art damn’d, fike an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.

Cor. For not being at Court? your reason.

Clo. Why, if thou never wast at Court, thou never saw'it good manners; if thou never saw'it good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is fin, and fin is damnation : thou art in a parlous ftate, 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 falute not at the Court, but you kiss your hands; that courtese would be uncleanly, if Courtiers were thepherds.

Clo. Instance, briefly ; come, instance.

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

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

Cor. Besides, our hands are hard.

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

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

Clo. Moft shallow man! thou worms-meat, in re{pect of a good piece of flesh, indeed! learn of the

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