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for food! here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewel, kind master.
Orla. Why, how now, Adam ! no greater heart in thee? live a little; comfort a little ; cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield any thing favage, I will either be food for it, or bring it for food to thee : thy conceit is nearer death, than thy powers. For my fake be comfortable, hold death a while at the arri's end. I will be here with the presently; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I'll give thee leave to die. But if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said, thou look 'it cheerly. And I'll be with thee quickly; yet thou liest in the bleak air. Come, I will bear thee to some shelter, and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this desart. Cheerly, good Adam.
SCE N E VII.
Duke fen. I think he is transform'd into a beaft,
1 Lord. My Lord, he is but even now gone hence. Here was he merry, hearing of a song.
Duke fen. If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
Jaq. A fool, a fool; I met a fool i'th' forest,
• And then he drew a dial from his poak, • And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says, very wisely, it is ten o'clock: • Thus may we fee, quoth he, how the world wags : • 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, * And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;
And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,
Duke len. What fool is this?
Jaq. 's worthy fool! one that hath been a courtier, “ And says, if ladies be but young and fair,
They have the gift to know it : and in his brain, “ Which is as dry as the remainder-bilket “ After a voyage, he hath itrange places crammid “ With observation, the which he vents " In mangled forins. O that I were a fool ! I am ambitious for a motley coat.
Duke fen. Thou shalt have one.
Jaq. It is my only fuit; Provided that you weed your better judgments Of all opinion, that grows rank in them, That I am wise. “ I must have liberty " Withal, as large a charter as the wind, - To blow on whom I please; for so fools have ;
And they that are most galled with my folly,
They most must laugh. And thy, Sir, muft they for “ The why is plain, as way to parish-church; s. He whom a fool doth very wisely hit, “ Doth very foolishly, although he smart, " Not to feem fenseless of the bob. If not, « The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd “ Ev'n by the squand'ring glances of a fool. Invest me in my motley, give me leave To speak my mind, and I will through and through Cleanse the foul body of th' infected world,
If they will patiently receive my medicine.
Duke sen. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding fin: For thou thyself haft been a libertine, As fenfual as the brutish fting itself; And all th' embossed sores and headed evils, That thou with licence of free ot haft caught, Wouldit thou disgorge into the general world.
Jaq. “ Why, who cries out on pride, « That can therein tax any private party? “ Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, “ 'Till that the very very means do ebb? 66 What woman in the city do I name, 56 When that I say, the city-woman bears “ The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders ? « Who can come in, and say, that I mean her; “ When such a one as she, such is her neighbour ? « Or what is he of baseft function, “ That says, his bravery is not on my coft;
Thinking, that I mean him; but therein suits “ His folly to the metal of my speech? “ There then; how then? what then? let me fee
“ wherein My tongue hath wrong’d him ; if it do him right, " Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free,
Why, then my taxing, like a wild goose, flies « Unclaim'd of
But who comes here? SCENE VIII. Enter Orlando,with his sword drawn..
Orla, Forbear, and eat no more.-
Duke fen. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy diftress?
Orla. You touch'd my vein at firft; the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta’en from me the Thew Of smooth civility; yet am I in-land bred, And know some nurture.
But forbear, I faya
He dies that touches any of this fruit,
you Be answered with reason, I must die. Duke fen. What would you have? Your gentleness
Orla. I almost die for food, and let me hare it.
table. Orla. Speak you fo 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, 6. That in this desart inaccessible, - Under the fhade of melancholy boughs, * Lofe and negle& the 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 fat at any good man's feast; • If ever from your eye-lids wip'd a tear, * And know what 'tis to pity, and be pity’d;' Let gentleness my strong inforcement be, In the which hope I bluh, and hide my
Orla. Then but forbear your food a little while
Duke sen. Go find him out;,
go to find
Ørla. I thank ye; and be bless’d for your good com fort !
S CE N E
Jaq. All the world's a stage,
At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. * And then the whining school-boy, with his fatchel, * And shining morning-face, creeping like snail • Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, • Sighing like furnace, with a woful balad < 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 lin’d, « With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut;
Full of wise saws and modern instances, · And so he plays his part. The fixth age
shifts - Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, « With spectacles on nose, and pouch on fide;
His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk fhank; and his big manly voice, - Turning again toward childish treble, pipes,
And whistles in his found. Last scene of all,
Duke sen. Welcome : fet down your venerable bur-
[den, Orla. I thank you most for him, Adam, So had you need,