Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our

table.

Orl. Speak you so 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,
That in this desert inaccessible,

Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
Lose and neglect 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 sat 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 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 knoll'd to church;
And sat at good men's feasts; and wip'd our eyes
Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd:
And therefore sit you down in gentleness,
And take upon command what help we have,
That to your wanting may be ministred.

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
Limp'd in pure love; till he be first suffic'd—
Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger,
I will not touch a bit.

Go find him out,

Duke S.
And we will nothing waste till you return.
Orl. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good

comfort!

[Exit.

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;
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' eye-brow: Then a soldier ;
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden 9 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 1 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.

9 Violent.

1 Trite, common,

2.

Re-enter ORLANDO, with ADAM.

Duke S. Welcome: Set down your venerable bur

den,

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 musick; and, good cousin, sing.

AMIENS sings.

SONG.
I.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,

Thou art not so unkind 2

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.

II.

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'd3 not.

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

2 Unnatural.

9 Remembering.

Duke S. If that you were the good sir Rowland's

son,

As you have whisper'd faithfully, you were;.
And as mine eye doth his effigies witness
Most truly limn'd, and living in your face,
Be truly welcome hither: I am 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.

ACT III.

SCENE I.- A Room in the Palace.

Enter Duke FREDERICK, OLIVER, Lords and At

tendants.

Duke F. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that can

not 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, wheresoe'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. O, that your highness knew my heart in this!

I never lov'd my brother in my life.

Duke F. 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.

SCENE II.

The Forest.

Enter ORLANDO, with a paper.

[Exeunt.

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

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 see thy virtue witness'd every where. Run, run, Orlando; carve, on every tree, The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she.

Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE.

[Exit.

Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, master Touchstone?

Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life: but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, 5 Expeditiously.

4 Seize by legal process.
6 Inexpressible.