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cheerly. And I'll be with thee quickly; yet thou lieft in the bleak air. Come, I will bear thee to fome shelter, and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this Defart. Cheerly, good Adam.

SCENE

Enter Duke Sen. and Lords

Duke Sen.

VII.

[Exeunt.

[A Table fet out. a beast,

I Think, he is transform'd into

For I can no where find him like a man. 1 Lord. My Lord, he is but even now gone hence. Here was he merry, hearing of a Song.

Duke Sen. If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
We shall have shortly difcord in the spheres :
Go, seek him; tell him, I would speak with him.

Enter Jaques.

1 Lord. He faves my labour by his own approach. Duke Sen. Why, how now, Monfieur, 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' th' forest, A motley fool; a miferable varlet ! As I do live by food, I met a fool, Who laid him down and bask'd him in the fun, And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms, and yet a motley fool. Good-morrow, fool, quoth I: No, Sir, quoth he, Call me not fool, till heaven hath fent me fortune ;

And then he drew a dial from his poak,

And looking on it with lack-luftre eye,
Says, very wifely, it is ten a clock:

Thus may we fee, quoth he, how the world wags:

'Tis but an hour ago fince it was nine,

And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;

And fo from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,

And

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And then from hour to hour we rot and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep contemplative:
And I did laugh, sans intermiffion,
An hour by his dial. O noble fool,
A worthy fool! motley's the only wear.
Duke Sen. What fool is this?

Jaq. O worthy fool! one that hath been a Courtier,
And fays, 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 bisket
After a voyage, he hath strange places cram'd
With observation, the which he vents
In mangled forms. O that I were a fool!
I am ambitious for a motley coat.
Duke Sen. Thou shalt have one.

Jaq. It is my only fuit;

Provided, that you weed your better judgments
Of all opinion, that grows rank in them,
That I am wife. I must have liberty
Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please; for so fools have;
And they that are most gauled with my folly,
They most must laugh: and, why, Sir, must they so ?
The why is plain, as way to parish church;
He, whom a fool doth very wifely hit,
Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
* Not to feem senseless of the bob. If not,
The wife man's folly is anatomiz'd
Even by the squandring glances of a fool.
Invest me in my motley, give me leave

To fpeak my mind, and I will through and through

* Seem fenfeless of the bob.] Both the Measure and the Sense direa us to read,

Not to feem fenfeless, &c.

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Cleanfe

Cleanse the foul body of th' infected world,
If they will patiently receive my medicine.

Duke Sen. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldf do.

Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do but good?
Duke Sen. Most mischievous foul fin, in chiding fin:

For thou thyself haft been a libertine,
As fenfual as the brutish sting itself;
And all th' embofsed fores and headed evils,
That thou with licence of free foot haft caught,
Would'st thou disgorge 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 Sea,
'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 shoulders?
Who can come in, and fay, that I mean her;
When fuch a one as she, 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 where

in

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?

SCENE VIII.

Entre Orlando, with Sword drawn.

Orla. FORBEAR, and eat no more.
Jaq. Why, I have eat none yet.
Orla. Nor shalt thou, 'till neceffity be serv'd.

Jaq.

dff

?

ni

ere.

Jaq. Of what kind should this Cock come of?
Duke Sen. 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?

Orla. You touch'd my vein at first; the thorny

point

Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the shew
Of fmooth civility; yet am I in-land bred,
And know fome nurture: but forbear, I 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

shall force,

More than your force move us to gentleness.

Orla. I almost die for food, and let me have it.
Duke Sen. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our

table.

Orla. 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 ftern commandment. But whate'er you are,
That in this desart 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 fate 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 Sen. True is it, and that we have seen better

days;

And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church;

9.

C4

And

And fate at good men's feasts, and wip'd our eyes
Of drops, that facred pity had engender'd :
And therefore fit you down in gentleness,
And take upon command what help we have,
That to your wanting may be miniftred.

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 first suffic'd,
Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger,
I will not touch a bit.

Duke Sen. Go find him out,

And we will nothing waste till you return.

Orla. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good

comfort!

[Exit.

SCENE IX.

Duke Sen.

THOU feeft, we are not all alone un

happy:

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 feven 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 woful ballad
Made to his mistress' eye-brow. Then, a foldier;
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, fudden and quick in quarrel;
Seeking the bubble reputation

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