Taylor soulp Orlando. Forbear and wat no more'.

Publishid by P.& C. Rivington Londen Ap. 2. 1803.

(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?

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

Why, I have eat none yet.
Ori. 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, 2 And know some nurture: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 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

table. 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,
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 knollid 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!

[Èxit. 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 take 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

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.

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 musick; 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.