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Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
That in civility thou seem'st so empty?

Orl. You touch'd my vein at first; the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show'

Of smooth civility; yet am I in-land bred,
And know some nurture: But forbear, I say;
He dies, that touches any of this fruit,
Till I and my affairs are answered.

Jaques. An you will not be answered with reason, I must die.

Duke. What would you have? Your gentleness shall force,

More than your force move us to gentleness.

Orl. I almost die for food, and let me have it.
Duke. 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 pitied;
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be:
In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword.
Duke. 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.

Duke. Go find him out,

And we will nothing waste till you return.

Orl. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good com

fort!

[Exit. Duke. Thou see'st, we are not all alone unhappy: This wide and universal theatre

Presents more woeful pageants than the scene
Wherein we play in.

Jaques. 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 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.

Enter ORLANDO and ADAM.

Duke. 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. Welcome, fall to: I will not trouble you
As yet, to question you about your fortunes:-
Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing.

SONG. AMIENS.

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.

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.

Duke. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's

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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 THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

The Palace.

Enter DUKE FREDERICK, LORDS, and OLIVER.

Fred. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot 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, whereso'er he is;

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.

Oliv. Oh, that your highness knew my heart in this! I never lov'd my brother in my life.

Fred. 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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The Forest.

Enter ORLANDO.

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.

Corin. 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 is it solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious, As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd ?

Corin. No more, but that 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 the lack of the sun: That he, that hath learned no wit by nature

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