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Doth very foolishly, although he fmart,
Not to feem fenfelefs of the bob.

The wife man's folly is anatomiz'd

If not,

Even by the fquandring glances of a fool.
Invest me in my motley, give me leave

To speak my mind, and I will through and through
Cleanfe the foul body of th' infected world,

If they will patiently receive my medicine.

Duke Sen. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do,
Faq. What for a counter, would I do but good?
Duke Sen. Molt mischievous foul fin, in chiding fin;
For thou thyfelf haft been a libertine,

As fenfual as the brutish fting itself ;

And all the embossed fores and headed evils,
That thou with licence of free foot haft caught,
Wouldst thou difgorge into the general world.
Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride,
That can therein tax any private party?
Doth it not flow as hugely as the fea,
"Till that the very very means do ebb?
What woman in the city do I name,
When that I fay, the city-woman bears
The cost of Princes on unworthy fhoulders?
Who can come in, and fay, that I mean her;
When fuch a one as fhe, fuch is her neighbour
Or what is he of basest function,

That fays, his bravery is not on my coft;
Thinking, that I mean him; but therein futes

His folly to the metal of my speech?

There then; how then? what then? let me fee wherein

My tongue hath wrong'd him; if it do him right,

Seem fenfelefs of the bob. If not, &c.] Befides that the third Verfe is defective one whole Foot in Measure, the Tenour of what Jaques continues to fay, and the Reasoning of the Paffage, fhew it is no lefs defective in the Senfe. There is no doubt, but the two little Monofyllables, which I have fupplyed, were either by Accident wanting in the Manufcript Copy, or by Inadvertence were left out at Prefs.


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The he hath wrong'd himfelf; if he be free,
Why then my taxing, like a wild goofe, flies
Unclaimed of any man.

But who comes here?

Enter Orlando, with Sword drawn.

Orla. Forbear and eat no more.

Jaq. Why, I have eat none yet,

Orla. Nor fhalt thou, 'till neceffity be ferv'd.
Jag. Of what kind fhould this Cock come of?
Duke Sen. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress?
Or else a rude defpifer of good manners,

That in civility thou feem'it fo empty ?

Orla. You touch'd my vein at firft; the thorny point
Of bare diftrefs bath ta'en from me the shew

Of smooth civility; yet am I in-land bred,
And know fome nurture: but forbear, 1 fay:
He dies, that touches any of this fruit,
'Till I and my affairs are answered.

Jaq. If you will not

Be answered with: reason, I must die.

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

More than your force move us to gentleness.

Orla, 1 almost 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 itern commandment But whate'er you are,
That in this defert inacceffible,

Under the fhade of melanchy boughs,

Lofe 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 eyelids wip'd a tear,
And know what 'tis to pity, and be pitied;
Let gentleness my ftrong enforcement be
In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword.

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Duke Sen. True is it, that we have feen better days;
And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church;
And fate at good men's feafts, and wip'd our eyes
Of drops, that facred pity hath engender'd:
And therefore fit you down in gentleness,
And take upon command what help we have,
That to your wanting may be ministred.

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 step
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 com


[Exit. Duke Sen. Thou feeft, we are not all alone unhappy: This wide and univerfal 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 meerly 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 nurse's arms:
And then, the whining school-boy with his fatchel,
And thining morning-face, creeping like fnail
Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover;
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his miftrefs' eye-brow. Then, a foldier:
Full of frange 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
Into the lean and flipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nofe, 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 whistles in his found. Last scene of all,
That ends this ftrange eventful hiftory,

Is fecond childishness, and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, fans eyes, fans tafte, fans every thing.

Enter Orlando, with Adam.

Duke Sen. Welcome: fet down your venerable burden, And let him feed.

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

I fcarce can fpeak to thank you for myself.

Duke Sen. Welcome, fall to: I will not trouble you, As yet to question you about your fortunes.

Give us fome mufick; and, good coufin, fing.


Blow, blow, thou winter wind,

Thou art not fo unkind

As man's ingratitude;

Thy tooth is not so keen,

Because thou art not seen,

Altho' thy breath be rude.

Heigh bo! fing, high bo! unto the green holly;

Moft friendship is feigning;
Then beigh ho, the bolly!
This life is moft jolly.

most loving mere folly':

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Tho' thou the waters warp,
Thy fling is not fo foarp
As friend remembred not.
Heigh bo! fing, &c.

Duke Sen. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's fon As you have whifper'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 fortung 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.






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OT fee him fince? Sir, Sir, that cannot be:
But were I not the better part made mercy,
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 twelvemonth; or turn thou no more
To feek a living in our territory.

Thy lands and all things that thou doft call thine,
Worth feifure, do we feize into our hands;
'Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth,
Of what we think against thee.


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