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Orl. Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart 1st Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone in thee? Live a little; comfort a little ; cheer

hence; thyself a little: if this uncouth forest yield any- Here was he merry, hearing of a song. thing savage, I will either be food for it, or bring Duke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.than thy powers. For my sake, be comfortable; Go, seek him; tell him I would speak with him. hold death awhile at the arm's end. I will here be with thee presently; and if I bring thee not

Enter JAQUES. something to eat, I'll give thee leave to die: but 1st Lord. He saves my labour by his own apif thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of

proach. my labour. Well said ! thou look'st cheerily : Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur ! what a life and I'll be with thee quickly.—Yet thou liest in

is this, the bleak air: come, I will bear thee to some That your poor friends must woo your company? shelter; and thou shall not die for lack of a What! you look merrily. dinner, if there live anything in this desert. Jaq. A fool, a fool !—I met a fool i'the forest, Cheerly, good Adam!

[Exeunt. A motley fool ;-a miserable world! –

As I do live by food, I met a fool ;
Who laid hiin down and basked him in the sun,

And railed on lady Fortune in good terms, SCENE VII.-The same. A table set out. In good set terms,—and yet a motley fool.

Good-morrow, fool,” quoth I: “No, sir,” quoth Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, Lords, and others.

he, Duke S. I think he be transformed into a beast; “Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me forFor I can nowhere find him like a man.

tune."

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And then he drew a dial from his poke;

Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride, And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,

That can therein tax any private party? Says, very wisely, “ It is ten o'clock:

Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, Thus may we see," quoth lie, “ how the world i Till that the weary very means do ebb? Wags:

What woman in the city do I name, 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine;

When that I say, the city-woman bears And after one hour more 't will be eleven; The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, Who can come in, and say that I mean her, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot, When such a one as she, such is her neighbour? And thereby hangs a tale.” When I did hear Or what is he of basest function, The motley fool thus moral on the time,

That says his bravery is not on my cost My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, (Thinking that I mean him), but therein suits That fools should be so deep-contemplative; His folly to the mettle of my speech? And I did laugh, sans intermission,

There then; how then? what then? Let me see An hour by his dial.--O noble fool!

wherein A worthy fool! Motley 's the only wear.

My tongue hath wronged him: if it do him right, Duke S. What fool is this?

Then he hath wronged himself; if he be free, Jaq. worthy fool!--One that hath been a Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies, courtier;

Unclaimed of any man.—But who comes here? And says,

if ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,

Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn. Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit

Orl. Forbear, and eat no more. After a voyage,-he hath strange places crammed Jaq. Why, I have eat none yet. With observation, the which he vents

Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be served. In mangled forms.—O, that I were a fool !

Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of? I am ambitious for a motley coat.

Duke S. Art thou thus boldened, man, by thy Duke S. Thou shalt have one.

distress; Jaq. It is my only suit:

Or else a rude despiser of good manners, Provided that you weed your better judgments That in civility thou seem'st so empty? Of all opinion that grows rank in them,

Orl. You touched my vein at first; the thorny That I am wise. I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind,

Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show To blow on whom I please; for so fools have : Of smooth civility: yet am I inland bred, And they that are most galléd with my folly, And know some nurture. But forbear, I say; They most must laugh. And why, sir, must He dies that touches any of this fruit, they so?

Till I and my affairs are answered. The why is plain as way to parish church : Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, He that a fool doth very wisely hit,

I must die. Doth very foolishly, although he smart,

Duke S. What would you have? Your gentleness Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not,

shall force, The wise man's folly is anatomised

More than your force move us to gentleness. Even by the squandering glances of the fool. Orl. I almost die for food, and let me have it. Invest me in my motley; give me leave

Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our To speak my mind, and I will through and through

table. Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, Orl. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray If they will patiently receive my medicine.

you: Duke S. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou I thought that all things had been savage here; wouldst do.

And therefore put I on the countenance Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are, good ?

That in this desert inaccessible,
Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding Under the shade of melancholy boughs,

Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; For thou thyself hast been a libertine,

If ever you have looked on better days; As sensual as the brutish sting itself;

If ever been where bells have knolled to church; And all the embosséd sores, and headed evils, If ever sat at any good man's feast; That thou with license of free foot hast caught, If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear, Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. And know what 'tis to pity, and be pitied ;

point

sin :

Let gentleness my strong enforcement be:
In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword.

Duke S. True is it that we have seen better days;
And have with holy bell been knolled to church;
And sat at good men's feasts; and wiped our eyes
Of drops that sacred pity hath engendered :
And therefore sit you down in gentleness,
And take upon command what help we have,
That to your wanting may be ministered.

Orl. 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 Limped in pure love; till he be first sufficed, Oppressed with two weak evils, age and hunger, I will not touch a bit.

Duke s. Go find him out, And we will nothing waste till you return. Orl. I thank ye; and be blessed for your good comfort!

[Erit. Duke S. Thou seest we are not all alone un

happy:
This wide and universal theatre
Presents more woeful pageants than the scene
Wherein we play in.

Jaq. All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely 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 : 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 woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eye-brow: then, a soldier, 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 lined, With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances ; And so he plays his part: the sixth age

shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; His youthful hose, well saved, 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.

Re-enter ORLANDO, with Adam.
Duke S. Welcome: set down your venerable

burden, And let him feed.

Orl. 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.

Amiens sings.
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 remembered not.
Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! &c.
Duke S. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's

son,As you have whispered faithfully you were; And as mine eye doth his effigies witness Most truly limned and living in your face,Be truly welcome hither: I am the Duke, That loved 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,

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Enter Duke FREDERICK, Oliver, Lords, and

Enter ORLANDO, with a paper.
Attendants.

Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love:

And thou, thrice-crownéd queen of night, survey Duke F. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that can

With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, not be; But were I not the better part made mercy,

Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth sway.

O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books,
I should not seek an absent argument
Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it;

And in their barks my thoughts I'll character;

That every eye, which in this forest looks, Find out thy brother, whereso'er he is;

Shall see thy virtue witnessed everywhere.
Seek him with candle; bring him, dead or living,

Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more
To seek a living in our territory.

The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. [Exit. Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call

Enter Corin and TouchstONE. thine,

Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands; Master Touchstone? Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth, Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself it Of what we think against thee.

is a good life ; but in respect that it is a shepherd's Oli. O, that your highness knew my heart in life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary

, I this!

like it very well; but in respect that it is private, I never loved my brother in my life.

it is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in the Duke F. More villain thou.—Well, push him fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is out of doors;

not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare And let my officers of such a nature

life, look you, it fits my humour well; Make an extent upon his house and lands : is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my Do this expediently, and turn him going. stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd?

[Exeunt. | Cor. No more, but that I know, the more one

but as there

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.

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

Cor. No, truly.
Touch. Then thou art damned.
Cor. Nay, I hope,-

Touch. Truly, thou art damned; like an illroasted egg, all on one side.

Cor. For not being at court? Your reason.

Touch. 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 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 hands : that courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds.

Touch. Instance, briefly; come, instance.

Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their fells, you know, are greasy.

Touch. 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.

Cor. Besides, our hands are hard.

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

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

Touch. Most shallow man! Thou worms-meat, in

respect of a good piece of flesh! Indeed !Learn of the wise, 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 rest.

Touch. Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou

Touch. That is another simple sin in you; to bring the ewes and the rams together, and to offer to get your living by the copulation of cattle: to be bawd to a bell-wether; and to betray a shelamb of a twelvemonth, to a crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou beegt not damned for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds : I cannot see else how thou shouldst 'scape.

Cor. Here comes young master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother.

Enter Rosalind, reading a paper.
From the east to western Ind,
No jewel is like Rosalind.
Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
Through all the world bears Rosalind.
All the pictures, fairest lined,
Are but black to Rosalind.
Let no face be kept in mind,

But the fair of Rosalind. Touch. I'll rhyme you so, eight years together; dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours, excepted: it is the right butter-woman's rank to market.

Ros. Out, fool!
Touch. For a taste :-

If a hart do lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalind.
If the cat will after kind,
So, be sure, will Rosalind.
Winter-garments must be lined,
So must slender Rosalind.
They that reap must sheaf and bind;
Then to cart with Rosalind.
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,
Such a nut is Rosalind.
He that sweetest Rose will find,

Must find love's prick, and Rosalind. This is the very false gallop of verses: why do you infect yourself with them?

Ros. Peace, you dull fool; I found them on a tree.
Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.

Ros. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit in the country; for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar.

Touch. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge.

Enter Celia, reading a paper.
Ros. Peace!
Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside.

Celia reads.
Why should this a desert be?

For it is unpeopled ? No;
Tongues I'll hang on every tree,

That shall civil sayings shew.

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 happiness; glad of other men's good, content with my harm : and the greatest of my pride is, to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck

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