In the which hope I blush, and hide my fword. Duke Sen. True is it, that we have feen better days; Orla. Then but forbear your food a little while, Duke Sen. Go find him out, And we will nothing waste till you return. Orl. I thank ye; and be blefs'd for your good com fort! [Exit. Duke Sen. Thou feeft, we are not all alone unhappy : This wide and univerfal Theatre Prefents more woful pageants, than the scene Jaq. All the world's a Stage, And all the men and women meerly Players; Made to his miftrefs' eye-brow. Then, a foldier; Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice Full AS YOU LIKE IT. Full of wife faws and modern instances, With fpectacles on nofe, and pouch on fide; Enter Orlando, with Adam. 297 Duke Sen. Welcome: fet down your venerable burthen, And let him feed. Orla. I thank you moft for him. Adam. So had you need, I fcarce can speak to thank you for my felf. 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. SONG. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not fo unkind As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Becaufe thou art not feen, Altho' thy breath be rude. Heigh bo! fing, heigh ho! unto the green holly; This life is moft jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That doft not bite fo nigh As benefits forgot: N 5 Tha Tho' thou the waters warp, Thy fting is not fo sharp As friend remembred not. Heigh ho! fing, &c. Duke Sen. If that you were the good Sir Rowla As you have whisper'd faithfully you were, That lov'd your Father. The refidue of your fortun [Exe ACT III. SCENE, the PALACE. N Enter Duke, Lords, and Oliver. DUKE. OT fee him fince? Sir, Sir, that cannot be : Of my revenge, thou present: but look to it; Thy lands and all things that thou doft call thine, As You LIKE IT. 299 Oli. Oh, that your Highness knew my heart in this: I never lov'd my brother in my life. Duke. More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors; And let my officers of fuch a nature Orla. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to the FOREST. Enter Orlando. my Hng there, my verfe, in witness of love; And thou thrice-crowned Queen of Night furvey, With thy chafte eye, from thy pale fphere above, [Exit. Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, Mr. Touchftone? Clo. Truly, fhepherd, in refpect of it felf, it is a good life; but in refpect that it is a fhepherd's life, it is naught. In refpect that it is folitary, I like it very well; but in refpect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in refpect it is in the fields, it pleafeth me well; but in refpect it is not in the Court, it is tedious. As it is a fpare life, look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my ftomach. Haft any philosophy in thee, fhepherd ? Cor. No more, but that I know, the more one fickens, the worfe at eafe he is: and that he, that wants mony, means, and content, is without three good good friends. That the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn: that good pafture makes fat fheep; and that a great cause of the night, is lack of the Sun : that he, that hath learned no wit by nature nor art, may complain of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred. Clo. Such a one is a natural philofopher. Waft ever in Court, fhepherd ? Cor. No, truly. Clo. Then thou art damn'd. Clo. Truly, thou art damn'd, like an ill-roafted egg, all on one fide. Cor. For not being at Court? your reason. Clo. Why, if thou never waft at Court, thou never faw'ft good manners; if thou never faw'it good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickednefs is fin, and fin is damnation: thou art in a parlous ftate, fhepherd. Cer. Not a whit, Touchstone: thofe, that are good manners at the Court, are as ridiculous in the Country, as the behaviour of the Country is moft mockable at the Court. You told me, you falute not at the Court, but you kifs your hands; that courtefie would be uncleanly, if Courtiers were thepherds. Clo. Inftance, briefly; come, instance. Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their fels, you know, are greafie. Clo. Why, do not your Courtiers hands fweat? and is not the greafe of a mutton as wholfome as the fweat of a man? fhallow, fhallow; - a better instance, I fay: come. Cor. Befides, our hands are hard. Clo. Your lips will feel them the fooner. gain: ---- a more founder inftance, come. Shallow a Cor. And they are often tarr'd over with the furgery of our fheep; and would you have us kifs tarr? the Courtier's hands are perfumed with civet. Clo. Moft fhallow man! thou worms-meat, in respect of a good piece of flesh, indeed! learn of the |