That can therein tax any private party?
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,
Till that the very means do ebb?
What woman in the city do I name,
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 is she, such is her neighbour?
Or what is he of basest function,

That says, his bravery* is not on my cost,
(Thinking that I mean him), but therein suits
His folly to the mettle of my speech?

There then; How, what then? Let me see 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 any man.

A TENDER PETITION.

But whate'er you are,
That in this desert inaccessible,

Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time;
If ever you have looked on better days,
If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church;
If ever sat at any good man's feast;
If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear,
And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied,
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be.

THE SEVEN AGES.

All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players!
They have their exits, and their entrances;

* Finery.

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 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' eyebrow. 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 sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon;
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 every thing.

INGRATITUDE. A SONG,

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.
+Trite, common.

* Violent.

C

Unnatural.

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,

Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! &c.

ACT III.

A SHEPHERD'S PHILOSOPHY.

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 or art, may complain of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred.

CHARACTER OF AN HONEST AND SIMPLE SHEPHERD.

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.

DESCRIPTION OF A LOVER.

A lean cheek; which you have not: a blue eye, * Remembering.

and sunken; which you have not: an unquestionable spirit*; which you have not: a beard neglected; which you have not:-but I pardon you for that; for, simply, your having in beard is a younger brother's revenue: Then your hose should be ungartered, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and every thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation. But you are no such man: you are rather point-device‡ in your accoutrements; as loving yourself, than seeming the lover of any other.

REAL PASSION DISSEMBLED.

Think not I love him, though I ask for him; "Tis but a peevish§ boy:-yet he talks well;But what care I for words? yet words do well, When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. It is a pretty youth:-not very pretty: [him: But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes He'll make a proper man: The best thing in him Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. He is not tall; yet for his years he's tall; His leg is but so, so; and yet 'tis well: There was a pretty redness in his lip; A little riper and more lusty red

[ence

Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the differ-
Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask.
There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd
In parcels as I did, would have gone near [him
To fall in love with him: but, for my part,
I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet

*

A spirit averse to conversation.

+ Estate.

+ Over-exact.

§ Silly.

I have more cause to hate him than to love him:
For what had he to do to chide at me?

He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair black;
And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me:
I marvel, why I answer'd not again:
But that's all one; omittance is no quittance.

ACT IV.

THE VARIETIES OF MELANCHOLY.

I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the lady's, which is nice*; nor the lover's, which is all these.

MARRIAGE ALTERS THE TEMPER OF BOTH SEXES.

Say a day, without the ever: No, no, Orlando, men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen; more clamorous than a parrot against rain; more new-fangled than an ape; more giddy in my desires than a monkey; I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you are disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when thou art inclined to sleep.

CUPID'S PARENTAGE.

No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and + Melancholy.

* Trifling.