Or else a rude despiser of good manners, 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, 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. Of stern commandment: But whate'er you are, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church; If ever from your eye-lids wip'd a tear, Orl. Then but forbear your food a little while, And give it food. There is an old poor man, Oppress'd with two weak evils, age, and hunger-▬▬ 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 Jaques. All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice; And so he plays his part: The sixth age shifts 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. I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. SONG. AMIENS. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Although thy breath be rude. Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky, As friend remember'd not. Duke. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's As you have whisper'd faithfully, you were; 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 :- [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; Bring him dead or living, Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine, 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 |