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Come hither, come hither, come hither :
Ami. And I'll sing it.
If it do come to pass,
Here shall he see, gross fools as he,
An if he will come to me. Ami. What's that ducdame?
Jaq. 'T is a Greek invocation to call fools into a circle. I'll go sleep if I can : if I cannot, I'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt.
Ami. And I'll go seek the duke : his banquet is prepared.
Enter ORLANDO and ADAM.
Orl. Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, I will either be food for it, or bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers. For my sake be comforted'; hold death awhile at the arm's end. I will here be with thee presently, and if I bring thee not something to eat, I will give thee leave to die; but if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said ! thou look'st cheerily; and I'll be with thee quickly.—Yet thou liest in the bleak air: come, I will bear thee to some shelter, and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam.
[Exeunt. i duc-ad-me (come hither): says Hanmer. ? comfortable : in f. e.
SCENE VII.-The Same.
A Table set out. Enter DUKE, Senior, AMIENS,
Duke S. I think he be transform'd into a beast,
1 Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence: Here was he merry, hearing of a song.
Duke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.— Go, seek him: tell him, I would speak with him. Enter JAQUES.
1 Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach. Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this, That your poor friends must woo your company! What, you look merrily.
Jaq. A fool, a fool!
-I met a fool i' the forest,
A motley fool; (a miserable world!)
As I do live by food, I met a fool,
Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun,
In good set terms,—and yet a motley fool.
And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Thus may we see," quoth he, "how the world wags:
An hour by his dial.-O, noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.
Duke S. What fool is this?
Jaq. O, worthy fool!-One that hath been a courtier,
And says, if ladies be but young and fair,
They have the gift to know it; and in his brain,
Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd
Duke S. Thou shalt have one.
It is my only suit;
Duke S. Fie 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:
Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride,
says, his bravery is not on my cost, Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits
1 f. e.: Not. the very, very means : in f. e.
His folly to the mettle of my speech?
Let me see
My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right,
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,
Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason,
I must die.
Duke S. What would you have? Your gentleness
More than your force move us to gentleness.
Orl. I almost die for food, and let me have it.
Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our
Orl. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you: I thought, that all things had been savage here,
And therefore put I on the countenance
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,
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 commend, what help we have, That to your wanting may be minister'd.
Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while,
Duke S. Go find him out,
[Exit. Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone unhappy: This wide and universal theatre Presents 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 seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. 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 woful 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 eye 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