Jaq. Of what kind should this Cock come of? Duke Sen. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy diftrefs?

Or else a rude despiser of good manners,

That in civility thou feem'ft fo empty?

Orla. You touch'd my vein at firft; the thorny point

Of bare diftrefs hath ta'en from me the fhew
Of smooth civility; yet am I in-land bred,
And know fome nurture: but forbean, I say:
He dies, that touches any of this fruit,
'Till I and my affairs are answered.
Jaq. If you will not

Be anfwered with reafon, I muft die.

Duke Sen. What would you have? Your gentleness fhall force,

More than

your force move us to gentleness. Orla. I almoft die for food, and let me have it. Duke Sen. 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 favage here;
And therefore put I on the countenance
Of stern commandment. But whate'er
That in this defart inacceffible,

you are,

Under the fhade 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 fate 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 ftrong enforcement be,

In the which hope I blufh, and hide my fword.
Duke Sen. True is it, and that we have seen better

days;

And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church;

C 4,

And

And fate at good men's feafts, and wip'd our eyes
Of drops, that facred pity had engender'd:
And therefore fit you down in gentleness,
And take upon command what help we have,
That to your wanting may be miniftred.

Orla. 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 flep
Limp'd in pure love; 'till he be firft fuffic'd,
Opprefs'd with two weak evils, age and hunger,
I will not touch a bit.

Duke Sen. Go find him out,

And we will nothing wafte till you return. Orla. I thank ye; and be blefs'd for your good comfort!.

[Exit.

SCENE

IX.

Duke Sen.

HOU feeft, we are not all alone un

Thappy:

This wide and universal Theatre

Prefents more woful 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 feven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurfe's arms:
And then, the whining school-boy with his fatchel,
And fhining morning-face, creeping like fnail
Unwillingly to fchool. And then, the lover;
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his miftrefs' eye-brow. Then, a foldier;
Full of ftrange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, fudden and quick in quarrel;
Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the juftice
In fair round belly, with good capon lin❜d,
With eyes fevere, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wife faws and modern inftances,
And fo he plays his part. The fixth age shifts
Into the lean and flipper'd pantaloon,

With fpectacles on nose, and pouch on fide;
His youthful hofe well fav'd, a world too wide
For his fhrunk fhank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes,
And whiftles in his found. Laft Scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful History,
Is fecond childifhnefs, and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, fans eyes, fans tafte, fans every thing.

Enter Orlando, with Adam.

ELCOME: fet down your venera

Duke Sen. Wble burden,

And let him feed.

Orla. I thank you moft for him.
Adam. So had you need,

I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.

Duke Sen. Welcome, fall to: I will not trouble you, As yet to queftion you about your fortunes. Give us fome mufic; and, good coufin, fing.

SONG.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,

Thou art not fo unkind

As man's ingratitude;

Thy tooth is not fo keen,

Becaufe thou art not fheen,

Altho' thy breath be rude.

Heigh ho! fing, heigh ho! unto the green holly;
Moft friendship is feigning; most loving mere folly :
Then heigh ho, the holly!

This life is moft jolly.

C 5

Freeze,

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That doft not bite so nigh
As benefits for got:
Tho' thou the waters warp,
Thy fting is not fo sharp

As friend remembred not.
Heigh ho! fing, &c.

Duke Sen. 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 witnefs,
Moft truly limm'd, and living in your face,
Be truly welcome hither. I'm the Duke,
That lov'd your Father. The refidue of your fortune
Go to my cave and tell me. Good old Man,
Thou art right welcome, as thy mafter is;
Support him by the arm; give me your hand,
And let me all your fortunes understand.

[Exeunt.

N But were I not the better part made mercy,

OT fee him fince? Sir, Sir, that cannot be:

I fhould not feek an abfent argument.
Of my revenge, thou prefent: but look to it;
Find out thy brother, wherefoe'er he is;

Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living,
Within this twelve-month; or turn thou no more
To feek a living in our territory.

Thy lands and all things that thou doft call thine,

Worth

Worth feizure, do we feize into our hands; 'Till thou canft quit thee by thy brother's mouth, Of what we think against thee.

Oli. Oh, that your Highness knew my heart in this: I never lov'd my brother in my life.

Duke. More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors;

And let my officers of fuch a nature

Make an Extent upon his house and lands:
Do this expediently, and turn him going. [Exeunt.

Orla.

SCENE II.

Changes to the FOREST.

HANG

Enter Orlando.

ANG there, my verse, in witness of my love;

And thou thrice-crowned Queen of Night furvey, With thy chafte eye, from thy pale fphere above, Thy huntrefs' name that my full life doth fway. O Rofalind! thefe trees fhall be my books,

And in their barks my thoughts I'll character; That every eye, which in this Foreft looks, Shall fee thy virtue witnefs'd every where. Run, run, Orlando, carve, on every tree, The fair, the chafte, and unexpreffive She.

SCENE III.

Enter Corin and Clown.

[Exit.

ND how like you this fhepherd's life, Mr.

Cor. A Touchstone?

Clo. Truly, fhepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in refpect that it is a fhepherd's life, it is naught. In refpect that it is folitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a