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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 bur

den, 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.


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

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.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh

As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remember'd not.
Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho! &c.

Duke S. If that thou were the good sir Rowland's

As you have whisper'd faithfully, you were;
And as mine eye doth his effigies witness
Most truly limn’d, and living in your face,
Be truly welcome hither : I am the duke,

That lov'd your father: The residue of your fortune,
Go to my cave and tell me.—Good old man,
Thou art right welcome as thy master is:
Support him by the arm.-Give me your hand,
And let me all your fortunes understand. [Exeunt.


SCENE I.- A Room in the Paluce.

Enter Duke FREDERICK, OLIVER, Lords, and Atten

dants. Duke F. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be: But were I not the better part made mercy, I should not seek an absent argument Of my revenge, thou present : But look to it; Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is; Seek him with candle ; bring him dead or living, Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more To seek a living in our territory. Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine, Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands; Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth, Of what we think against thee.

Oli. O, that your highness knew my heart in this! I never lov’d my brother in my

life. Duke F. More villain thou.—Well, push him out of

doors ; And let my officers of such a nature Make an extent upon

his house and lands: Do this expediently, and turn him going. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The Forest.

Enter ORLANDO, with a paper. Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love:

And, thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,

Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth sway. O Rosalind ! these trees shall be my books,

And in their barks my thoughts I'll character ; That every eye, which in this forest looks,

Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where. Run, run, Orlando; carve, on every tree, The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she.



Enter Corin and TouchSTONE. Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, master Touchstone:

Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life ; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is very

vile life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd ?

Cor. No more, but that I know, the more sickens, the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, means, and content, is without three


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