Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not,
The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd
Even by the squandring glances of the fool.8

Invest me in my motley; give me leave . To speak my mind, and I will through and through

Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, If they will patiently receive my medicine. . Duke S. Fye on thee! I can tell what thou

wouldst do.
Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but good?
Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding

sin;
For thou thyself hast been a libertine,
As sensual as the brutish sting itself; '
And all the embossed sores, and headed evils,
That thou with licence of free foot hast caught,
Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world,

Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride,
That can therein tax any private party?
Doth it nat flow as hugely as the sea,
Till that the very very means do ebb?
What woman in the city do I name,
When that I say, The city-woman bears
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders ?
Who can come in, and say, that I mean her,
'When such a one as she, such is her neighbour?
Or what is he of basest function,
That says, his bravery' is not on my cost,

(Thinking that I mean him,) but therein suits
His folly to the mettle of my speech?
There then; How, what then? Let me see wherein
My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right,
Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free,
Why then, my taxing like a wild goose flies,
Unclaim'd of any man.But who comes here?

Jaq.

Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn. Orl. Forbear, and eat no more.

Why, I have eat none yet. Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv’d. Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of? Duke S. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy

distress; 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 inland bred, And know some nurture:8 But forbear, I say; He dies, that touches any of this fruit, Till I and my affairs are answered,

Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, I must die. Duke S. What would you have? Your gentleness

shall force, More than your force moye us to gentleness.

Orl. I almost die for food, and let me have it, 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;

? — inland bred,] Inland here, and elsewhere in this play, is the opposite to outland, or upland, Orlando means to say, that he had not been bred among clowns.

3 And know some nurture:] Nurture is education, breeding.

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 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. Duke S.

Go find him out, 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.

* And Luke upon command -] At your own command.

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 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

5 His acts being seven ages.] I have seen, more than once, an old print, entitled, The Stage of Man's Life, divided into seven ages. As emblematical representations of this sort were formerly stuck up, both for ornament and instruction, in the generality of houses, it is more probable that Shakspeare took his hint from thence, than from Hippocrates or Proclus, who are quoted by Mr. Malone. HENLEY.

6 and bearded like the pard,] Beurds of different cut were appropriated in our author's time to different characters and professions. The soldier had one fashion, the judge another, the bishop different from both, &c. i s udden and quick--] Lest it should be supposed that these epithets are synonymous, it is necessary to be observed that one of the ancient senses of sudden, is violent.

i modern instances,] Modern means trite, common.

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,

LAN

me:

rvene

Re-enter ORLANDO, with Adam. Duke S. 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 S. Welcome, fall to; I will not trouble you As yet, to question you about your fortunes:Give us some inusick; and, good cousin, sing.

AMIENS sings,

SONG.

I.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkindo

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.