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Cel. Hem them away!

I cannot live out of her company.
Ros. I would try; if I could cry hem, and have him. Duke F. You are a fool. —You, niece, provide your-
Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections !

self;
Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than If you out-stay the time, upon mine honour,
myseif.

And in the greatness of my word, you die.
Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time,

[Lxeuni Duke Frederick and Lords.
in despite of afall.-But, turning these jests out of ser- Cel. O my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou go?
vice, let us talk in good earnest. Is it possible, on such Wilt thou change fathers ? I will give thee mine.
a sudden, you should fall into so strong a liking with 1 charge thee, be not thou more grier'd than I am.
old sir Rowland's youngest son?

Ros. I have more cause.
Ros. The duke my father lov'd his father dearly. Cel. Thou hast not, cousin;
Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should love his Pr’ythee, be cheerful ! know'st thou not, the duke
son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, Hath banish'd me his daughter ?
for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Ros. That he hath not.
Orlando.

Cel. No? hath not? Kosalind lacks then the love,
Ros. No, 'faith ; hate him not, for my sake. Which teacheth thee, that then and I am one:
Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well ? Shall we be sunder'd ? shall we part, swect girl ?
Ros. Let me love him for that; and do you love him, No; let my father seek another heir !
because I do. -Look, here comes the duke.

Therefore devise with me, how we may fly,
Cel. With his eyes full of anger.

Whither to go, and what to bear with us :
Enter Duke FREDERICK, with Lords.

And do not seek to take your change upon you,
DukeF. Niistress, despatch you with your safest haste, To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out:
And get you from our court.

For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,
Ros. Me, uncle?

Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thoe.
Duke F. You, cousin :

Ros. Why, whither shall we go?
Within these ten days if that thou be'st found Cel. To seek my uncle.
So near our public court as twenty miles,

Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Thou diest for it.

Maids as we are, to travel forth so far?
Ros. I do beseech your grace,

Beauty provoketh thieves sooner, than gold.
Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me; Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
If with myself I hold intelligence,

And with a kind ofumber smirch my face ;
Or have acquaintance with mine own desires : The like do you ; so shall we pass along,
If that I do not dream, or be not frantic,

And never stir assailants.
(As I do trust I am not,)then, dear uncle,

Ros. Were it not better,
Never, so much as in a thought unborn,

Because that I am more than common tall,
Did I offend your highuess.

That I did suit me all points like a man?
Duke F. Thusdo alltraitors;

A gallaut curtle-ax upon my thigh,
If their purgation did consist in words,

A boar-spear in my hand; and (in my heart
They are as innocent, as grace itself ;-

Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will)
Let it suffice thee, that I thrust thee not.

We'll have a swashing and a martial outside;
Ros. Yet your mistrnst cannot make me a traitor:

As many other mannish cowards have,
Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.

That do outface it with their semblances.
Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a man?
enough.

Ros. I'll have no worse a namc, than Jove's own page,
Ros. So was I, when your highness took his dukedom; And therefore look you call me Ganymede.
So was I, when your highness banish'd him:

But what will you be call'd?
Treason is not inherited, my lord;

Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state;
Or, if we did derive it from our friends,

No longer Celia, but Aliena.
What's that to me? my father was no traitor : Ros. But, cousin, what, if we assay'd to steal
Then, good my liege, mistake menot so much, The clownish fool out of your father's court?
To think my poverty is treacherons!

Would he not be a comfort to our travel ?
Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.

Cel. lle'll go along o'er the wide world with me.
Duke F. Ay, Celia ; westay'd her for your sake, Leave me alone to woo him. Let's away,
Else had she with her father rang'd along.

And get our jewels and our wealth together;
Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay,

Devise the fittest time, and safest way
It was your pleasure, and your own remorse;

To hide us from pursuit, that will be made
I was too young that time to value her,

After my flight! Now go we in content,
But now I know her: if she be a traitor,

To liberty, and not to banishment.

[Exeunt.
Why so am I; we still have slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together;
And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans,

A CT II.
Still we went coupled, and inseparable.

SCENEI.— The Forest of Arden.
Duke F. She is too subtle for thee, and her smooth- Enter Duke senior, Amiens, and other Lords, in the

dress of Foresters.
Her very silence, and her patience,

Duke S. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, Speak to the people, and they pity her.

Hath not old custom made this life more sweet, Thou art a fool : she robs thee of thy name;

Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more vir- More free from peril, than the envious court? tuous,

Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, When she is gone. Then open not thy lips ;

The seasons' difference; as, the icy fang, Firm and irrevocable is my doom,

And churlish chiding of the winter's wind; Which I have pass’d upon her: she is banish'd. Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege;. Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say:

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This is no flattery: these are counsellors,

2 Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft 01.1 That feelingly persuade me, what I am. Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing,

The co Sweet are the uses of adversity,

Hesperia, the princess' gentlewoman,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Confesses, that she secretly o’erheard

Thou a
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
Your daughter and her cousin much commend

Where And this our life, exempt from public haunt, The parts and graces of the wrestler, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles; Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.

And she believes, wherever they are gone, Ami. I would not change it, Happy is your grace,

That youth is surely in their company. That can translate the stubboraness of fortune Duke F.Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither; blogg Into so quiet and so sweet a style! If he be absent, bring his brother to me!

de cor Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison? I'll make him find him. Do this suddenly, And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,

And let not search and inquisition quail
Being nativeburghers of this desert city,

To bring again these foolish runaways. (Exeunt.
Should, in their own confines, with forked heads
Have their round haunches gor’d.

SCENEIII.- Refore Oliver's house. 1 Lord. Indeed, my lord,

Enter Orlando and Adam, meeting. The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;

Orl. Who's there? And, in that kind, swears, you do more usurp Adam. What! my young master? O, my gentle master, kat Than doth your brother, that hath banish'd you. 10, my sweet master, 0, you memory To-day, my lord of Amiens, and myself,

Ofold sir Rowland! why, what make you

here? Did steal behind him, as he lay along

Why are you virtuous ? why do people love you? Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant? Upon the brook, that brawls along this wood; Why would you be so fond to overcome

late Tothe which place a poor sequester'd stag,

The bony priser of the humorous duke? That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,

Your praiseis come too swiftly home before

e you.

Re Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord, Know you not, master, to some kind of men

TO The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans, Their graces serve them but as enemies? That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat No more do yours; your virtues, gentle master, Almost to bursting; and the big round tears

Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. Cours'd one another down his innocent nose

0, what a world is this, when what is comely In piteous chase: and thus the hairy fool,

Envenoms him that bears it ! Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,

Orl. Why, what's the matter? Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, Adain. 0, unhappy youth, Augmenting it with tears.

Come not within these doors! Within this roof Duke S. But what said Jaques ?

The enemy of all your graces lives : Did he not moralize this spectacle?

Your brother-(no, no brother; yet the son1 Lord. O yes, into a thousand similes.

Yet not the son :- I will not call him son-
First, for his weeping in the needless stream; Of him I was about to call his father,).
Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak'st a testament Hath heard your praises; and this night he means
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more

To burn the lodging, where you use to lie,
To that which had too much. Then, being alone, And you within it: if he fail of that,
Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends;

He will have other means to cut you off :
'Tis right, quoth he; thus misery doth part Loverheard him, and his practices.
The flux of company. Anon, a careless lerd, This is no place, this house is but a butchery;
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him,

Abhorit, fear it, do not enter it!
And never stays to greet him ; Ay, quoth Jaques, Orl. Why, whither, Adam, would'st thou have me go?
Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens;

Adam. No matter whither, so you conie not here. 'Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look

Orl. What,would'st thou have me goand beg my food? Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?

Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce Thus most invectively he pierceth through

A thievish living on the common road ? The body of the country, city, court,

This I must do, or know not, what to do; Yea, and of this our life: swearing, that we

Yet this I will not do, do how I can : Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse, I rather will subject me to the malice To fright the animals, and to kill them up,

Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother. In their assign'd and native dwelling place.

Adam. But do not so ! I have five hundred crowns, DukeS.And did you leave him in this eontemplation? The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father, 2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting Which I did store, to be my foster-nurse, Upon the sobbing deer.

When service should in my old limbs lie lame, Duke S. Show me the place!

Andunregarded age in corners thrown; I love to cope him in these sullen fits;

Take that: and He, that doth the ravens feed, For then he's full of matter.

Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, 2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. [Exeunt. Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;

All this I give you. Let me be your servant;
SCENEJI.-- A room in the palace. Though I look old, yet I am strong and lasty:
Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, and Attendants. Foriu my youth I never did apply
Duke F. Can it be possible, that no man saw them? Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
It cannot be: some villains of my court

Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo
Are of consent and sufferance in this.

The means of weakness and debility; 1 Lord. I cannot hear of any that did her. Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Theladies, her attendants of her chamber,

Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you; Saw her a-bed; and, in the morning early,

I'll do the service of a younger man They found the bed untreasur'd'of their mistress. In all your business and necessities.

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Orl. O good old man ! how well in thee appears wooing ofa peascod instead of her; from whom I took
The constant service of the antique world,

two cods, and, giving her them again, said with weepWhen service sweat for duty, not for meed! ing tears, I ear these for my sake. We, that are true Thou art noi for the fashion of these times,

lovers, run into strange capers; but as allis mortal in Where none will sweat, but for promotion ;

nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly. And having that, do choke their service up

Ros. Thou speak’st wiser, than thou art 'ware of.
Even with the having. It is not so with thee;

Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be 'ware of mine own wit,
But, poor old man, thou pruu'st a rotten tree, till I break my shins against it.
That cannot so much as a blossom yield,

Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion is much
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.

upon my fashion.
But come thy ways, we'll go along together;

Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale
Andere we have thy youthful wages spent,
We'll light upon some settled low content.

Cel. I pray von, one of you question yond man,
Adam. Master, go on; and I will follow thee, If he for gold will give us any food :
To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.-

I faint almost to death.
From seventeen years till now, almost fourscore, Touch. Holla; you, clown!
Here lived I, but now live here no more.

Ros. Peace, fool! he's not thy kinsman.
At seventeen years many their fortunes seek;

Cor. Who calls ?
But at fourscore, it is too late a week:

Touch. Your betters, sir.
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better,

Cor. Else are they very wretched.
Than to die well, and not my master's debtor. [Exeunt. Ros. Peace, I say!

Good even to

you,

friend!
SCENE IV.-The Forest of Arden. Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.
Enter Rosalind in boy's clothes, Celia drest like a Ros. I prythee, shepherd, if that love, or gold,
Shepherdess, and Touchstone.

Can in this desert place buy entertainment,
Ros. O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits !

Bring us,

where we may restourselves, and feed! Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd,

And faints for succour.
weary

Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's Cor. Fair sir, I pity her,
apparel, and to cry like a woman: but I must comfort And wish for her sake, more than for mine own,
the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to shew My fortunes were more able to relieve her:
itself courageous to petticoat; therefore, courage, BatI am shepherd to another man,
good Aliena!

And do not sheer the fleeces, that I graze;
Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further. My master is of churlish disposition,

Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you, than And little recks to find the way to heaven
bear you: yet I should bear no cross, if I did bear you; By doing deeds of hospitality.
for, I think, you have no money in your purse. Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed,
Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden.

Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now,
Touch.Ay, now am I in Arden: the more fooll;when By reason of his absence, there is nothing
I was at home, I was in a better place; but travellers That you will feed on; but what is, come see,
must be content.

And in my voice most welcome shall you be.
Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone. -Look you, who Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?
comes here; a young man, and an old, in solemn talk. Cor.That young swain,that you saw here but erewhile,
Enter Coris and Silvil's,

That little cares for buying any thing.
Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st, how I do love her! Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock,
Cor. I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now. And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.
Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess; Cel. And we will mend thy wages; I like this place,
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover, And willingly could waste my time in it.
As ever sigh d upon a midnight pillow :

Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold.
But, if thy love were ever like to mine,

Go with me; if you like, upon report,
(Assure I think did never man love so,)

The soil, the profit, and this kind of life,
How many actions most ridiculous

I will your very faithful feeder be,
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?

And buy it with your gold right suddenly. [Exeunt.
Cor. Into a thousand, that I have forgotten.
Sil. O, thon didst then ne'er love so heartily :

SCENE V.–The same.
Ifthou remember'st pot the slightest folly,

Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others,
That ever love did make thee run into,

SONG.
Thou hast not lov’d:

Ami. Under the greenwood tree
Or, if thou hast not sat as I do now,

Who loves to lie with me,
Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,

And tune his merry note
Thou hast not lov'd:

Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Or, if thou hast not broke from company,

Come hither, come hither, come hither!
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,

Here shall he see
Thou hast not lov'd : 0 Phebe, Phebe, Phehe!

(Exit Silvius.

But winter and rough weather.
Ros. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy wound, Jaq. More, more, I pr’ythee, more!
I have by hard adventure found mine own.

Ami. It will make you melancholy, monsieur Jaques,
Touch. And I mine : I remember, when I was in love, Jaq.I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more! I can suck me-
I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take that lancholy out of a song, as a weazel sucks eggs. More,
for coming a-night to Jane Smile: and I remember the I pr’ythec, more!
kissing of her batlet, and then the cow's dugs that her Ami My voice is ragged; I know, I cannot please you.
pretty chop'd hands had milk’d: and I remember the Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire you

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to sing. Come, more! another stanza! call you them Here was he merry, hearing of a song.
stanzas?

Duke 8. Ifhe, compact of jars, grow musical,
Ami. What you will, monsieur Jaques.
We shall have shortly discord in the spheres :-

The to
Jaq. Nay, 1 care not for their names; they owe me no-Go, seek him; tell him, I would speak with him.
thing. Will you sing?
Ami. More at your reqnest, than to please myself.

Enter Jaques.

Oru ba Jaq: Well, then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank 1 Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach,

Tals you: but that they call compliment, is like the encoun Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur ! what a life is this, ter of two dog-apes; and, when a man thanks me That your poor friends must woo your company?

Esfol hcartily, methinks, I have given him a penny, and he What! you look merrily. renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you Jaq. A fool, a foo!!--I met a fool i'the forest,

Nrtor that will not, hold your tongues.

A motley fool;--a miserable world! Ami. Well, I'll end the song.--Sirs, cover the while; As I do live by food, I met a fool;

Wort the duke will drink under this tree:-- he hath been all Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, this day to look you.

And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms,
Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is In good set terms,--and yet a motley fool.
too disputable for my company. I think of as many Good-morrow, fool, quothl: No, sir, quoth he,
matters as he; but I give heaven thanks, and make no Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me fortune!
boast of them. Come, warble, come!

And then he drew a dial from his poke;
SONG,

And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Who doth ambition shun, (All together here. Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock:
And loves to live i' the sun,

Thus may we see, quotlı he, how the world sags: Seeking the food he eats, 'Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine;

Ordi And pleas'd with what he gets,

And after an hour more, 'twill be eleven ;
Come hither, come hither, come hither!

from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
Here shall he see
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rof,

Add
Noenemy,
And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear

the i But winter and rough weather.

The motley fool thus moral on the time, Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I made My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,

la yesterday in despite of my invention.

Tiat fools should be so deep-contemplative; Ami. And I'll sing it.

Aud I did laugh, sans intermission,
Jaq. Thus it
goes :

An hour by his dial.-- O noble fool!
If it to come to pass,
A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.

M s'hat any man turn ass,

Duke Š. What foolis this?
Leaving his wealth and ease,

Jaq. O worthy fool!-One, that hath been a coartier;
A stubborn will to please,

And says, if ladies be but young and fair,
Ducàdme, ducàdme, ducàdme!

They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,-
Here shall he see

Which is as dry as the remainder bisket
Gross fools as he

After a voyage, --he hath strange places crammid
And if he will come to me.

With observation, the which he vents
Ami, What's that ducàdme?

In mangled forms :-0, that I were a fool!
Jaq.'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. I am ambitious for a motley coat.
I'll go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail against all

Duke S. Thou shalt have one, the first-born of Egypt.

Jaq. It is my only suit; Ami. And I'll go seek the duke; his banquet is pre- Provided, that you weed your better judgments par'd.

{Exeunt severally. Of all opinion that grows rank in them,

Thatlam wise. I must have liberty
SCENE VI.-The same.

Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
Enter ORLANDO and ADAM.

To blow on whom I please; for so fools have;
Adam. Dear master, I can go no further; 0, I die for And they, that are most galled with my folly,
food! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. They most must laugh: 'and why, sir, must they so ?
Farewell, kind master!

The why is plain as way to parish church: Orl. Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? He, that a fool doth very wisely hit, Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little! Doth very foolishly, although he smart, If this unconth forest yield any think savage, I will ei- Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not, ther be food for it,or bring it for food to thee. Thy con- The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd ceit is nearer death, than thy powers. For my sake, be Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool. comfortable; hold death awhile at the arm's end! I Invest me in my motley; give me leave will here be with the presently; and if I bring theenot To speak my mind, and I will through and throngh something to eat, I'll give thee leave to die: but if thou Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. If they will patiently receive my medicine. Well said ! thon look'st cheerily:and I'll be with thee Duke S. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wonld'st do. quickly. Yet thou liest in the bleak air: come, I will Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but good? bear thee to some shelter; and thou shalt not die for Dúke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin: lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this desert. For thou thyself hast been a libertine, Cheerly, good Adam!

(Exeunt. As sensual, as the brutish sting itself;

And all the embossed sores, and headed evils,
SCENE VII.--The same.

That thou with licence of free foot hast caught, A table set out. Enter Duke senior, Amiens, Lords, Would'st thou disgorge into the general world. and others.

Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride, Duke S. I think he be transform'd into a beast; That can therein tax any private party? For I can no where find him like a man.

Doth it not flow as hugely, as the sea, 1 Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence; Till that the very very means do ebb?

1

What woman in the city do I name,

They have their exits, and their entrances;
When that I say, The city-woman bears

And

one man in his time plays many parts,
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders ?

His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Who can come in, and say, that I mean her,

Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms ;
When such a one as she, such is her neighbour ? And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel,
Or what is he of basest function,

And shining morning face, creeping like snail
That says, his bravery is not on my cost,

Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover;
(Thinking that I mean him,) buí therein suits

Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
His folly to the mettle of my speech?

Made to his mistress' eye-brow. Tlien, a soldier,
There then ; how, what then? Let me see, wherein Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Mytongue hath wrong’d him: if it do him right, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Then he hath wrong'd himself ; if he be free, Seeking the bubble reputation
Why then, my taxing like a wild-goose flies,

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice;
Unclaim'd of any man.-But who comes here? In fair round belly, with good capon lin’d,

Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn. With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Orl. Forbear, and eat no more!

Full of wise saws and modern instances,
Jag. Why, I have eat none yet.

And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd. Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon;
Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of? With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ;
Dúke S. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress; His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide
Or else a rude despiser of good manners,

For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
That in civility throu seem'st so empty ?

Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
Orl. You touch'd my vein at first; the thorny point And whistles in his sound. Last scene ofall,
Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show

That ends this strange eventful history,
Of smooth civility: yet am Iiuland bred,

Is second childishness, and mere oblivion;
And know some nurture. But forbear, I say; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.
He dies, that touches any of this fruit,

Re-enter ORLANDO, with ADAM.
Till I and my affairs are answered.

Duke S. Welcome! Set down your venerable burden,
Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, And let him feed !
I must die,

Ort. I thank you most for him.
Duke S. What would you have? your gentleness Adam. So had you need;
shall force,

I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
More than your force move us to gentleness.

Duke S. Welcome, fallto: I will not trouble you
Orl. I almost die for food, and let me have it! As yet, to question you about your fortunes:-
Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table! Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing !
Orl. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you;

AMENs sings.
I thought, that all things had been savage here;

SONG.
And therefore put I on the countenance

I.
Of stern commandment: But whate'er you are,

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
That in this desert inaccessible,

Thou art not so unkind,
Under the shade of melancholy boughs,

As man's ingratitude;
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time;

Thy tooth is not so keen,
If ever you have look'd on better days;

Because thou art not seen,
If ever been, where bells have knoll'd to church;

Although thy breath be rude.
If ever sat at any good man's feast;

Heigh, ho! smg heigh, ho! unto the green holly:
If ever from yonr eye-lids wip'd a fear,

Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly :
And know, what'tis to pity, and be pitied;

Then, heighs, ho, the holly!
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be:

This life is most jolly.
In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword.

II.
Duke S. True is it, that we have seen better days,

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
And have with holy bell been knoll’d to church,

That dost not bite so nigh,
And sat at good men's feasts, and wip'd our eyes

As benefits forgot:
Of drops, that sacred pity hath engender'd:

Though thou the waters warp,
And therefore sit you down in gentleness,

Thy sting is not so sharp,
And take upon command what help we have,

As friend remember'd not.
That to your wanting may be ministred.

Heigh, ho! sing heigh, ho! etc.
Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while, Duke S. If that you were the good sir Rowland's son,-
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn,

As you have whisper'd faithfully, you were;
And give it foud. There is an old poor man,

And as mine eye doth his effigies witness
Who after me hath many a weary step,

Most truly limn'd, and living in your face, -
Limp'd in pure love; tisí he be first suffic'd, Be truly welcome hither! I am the duke,
Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger, That lov'd your father : the residue of your fortune,
I will not touch a bit.

Go to my cave and tell me.-Good old man,
Duke S. Go find him ont,

Thou art right welcome as thy master is :
And we will nothing waste, till you retarn.

Support him by the arm!--Give me your hand,
Orl. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good com- and let me all your fortunes understand. (Exeun.
fort!

(Exit.
Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone unhappy :
This wide and universal theatre

A CT III.
Presents more woeful pageants, than the scene,

SCENE I.- A room in the palace.
Wherein we playin.

Enter DukeFredeRICK,OLIVER, Lords,and Attendants.
Jaq. All the world's a stage,

Duke F. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be: And all the men and women merely players:

But were I not the better part made mercy,

1

da

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