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He dies that touches any of this fruit,
Jaq. If you will not
shall force, More than your force moves us to gentleness.
Orla. I almost die for food, and let me have it. Duke fen. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our
table. Orla. Speak you fo gently? pardon me, I pray you; I thought that all things had been savage here; And therefore put I on the countenance Of fern commandment · But whate'er you are, " That in this desart inacceslible, < Under the fhades 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 knolld to church;.
If ever fat at any good man's feast; " If ever froin your eye-lids wip'd a tear, * And know what 'tis to pity, and be pity'd ;' Let gentleness my strong inforcement be, In the which hope i bluth, and hide my sword.
Orla. Then but forbear your food a little while,
Duke sen. Go find him out,
Orla. I thank ye; and be bless’d for your good comfort !
Jaq. ' All the world's a fage,
They have their Exits and their entrances,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. * And then the whining school-boy, with his fatchef, • And thining morning-face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace with a woful balad 'Made to his mistre!s' 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 canon'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 faws and modern instances, • And so he plays his part. The fixth age shifts · Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, • With spectacles on nofe, and pouch on fide ; • His youthful hose well fav’d, a world too wide • For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes, • And whistles in his found. Last scene of all, " That ends this strange eventful history, • Is second childithnels, and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, fans eyes, sans taite, fans every thing.
SCENE X. Enter Orlando, with Adam. Duke fen. Welcome : set down your venerable bur• And let him feed.
[den, Orla. I thank you most for him. Adam. So had you need,
I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
Duke fen. Welcome, fall to : I will not trouble you, As yet to question
fortunes. Give us some music : and, good coufin, fing.
$ 0 N G.
As man's ingratitude ;
Itho' thy breath be rude.
Then heigh ho, the holly !
This life is most jolly.
As benefits forgot:
As friend remember'd not.
fon, As you have whisper'd faithfully you were, And as mine eye doth his effigies witreis, Most truly limn'd, and living in your face, Be truly welcome hither. I'm 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 hiin by the arm; give me your hand, And let me all your
fortunes understand. [Exeunt A C T III. SCENE I.
The palace. Enter Duke, Lords, and Oliver. Duke. OT see him since? Sir, Sir, that cannot be: But were I not the better part made mercy,
I should not seek an abfent argument
Oli. Oh that your Highness knew my heart in this:
Thy huntress' name that my full life doth fway,
And in their barks my thoughts I'll character;
which in this forest looks,
SCENE III. Enter Corin and Clown.
Cle. << Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a “ good life; but in respect it is a fhepherd's life,
it is naught. In respect that it is 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 plealeth 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 itomach. Halt any philosophy in thee, thepherd ?
Cor. “ No more, but that I know, the more one fic“ kens, 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 pafture makes fat sheep; " and that a great cause of the night, is lack of the “ fun; and that he that hath learned no wit by nature
nor art, may complain of gross breeding, or comes " of a very dull kindred,
Clo. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Was ever in court, shepherd ?
Cor No, truly. Clo. Then thou art damn'd. Cor. Nay, I hope Clo: Truly thou art damn'd, like an ill-roased egg, all on one side.
Cor. For not being at court? Your reason.
Clo. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never saw'st good manners; if thou never faw'ít good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is dainnation : thcu art in a parlous ftate, shepherd.
Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone: those that are good manners at the court, are as ridiculous in the country, as the behaviour of the country is moit mockable at the court. You told me, you salute not at the court, but you kiss your hands; that courtesy would be uncleanly if courtiers were shepherds.
Clo. Instance, brietly; come, instance. Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their fels, you know, are greasy.
Glo. Why, do not your courtiers hands fweat? and is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow ;- a better instance, I fay: cone.
Cor. Besides, our hands are hard.
Clo. Your life will fee! them the sooner: Shallovy again :--- a more founder instance, come.
Car. And they are often tarr'd over with the surgery