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,
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 sent me fortune:
And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, It is ten o'clock:

Thus we may see, quoth he, how the world wags:
'Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine,
And after one hour more, 'twill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,

a Well said!] Meaning, well done.

b Enter Duke, &c.] In the folio, 1623, "Enter Duke Sen, and Lord, like Out-lawes."

c My only suit;] The old, old play on the double meaning of the word

d Not to seem-] The original text reads only:

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 intermission,
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
With observation, the which he vents

In mangled forms.-O, that I were a fool!
I am ambitious for a motley coat.
DUKE S. Thou shalt have one.
JAQ.
It is my only suit ;c
Provided, that you weed your better judgments
Of all opinion that grows rank in them,
That I am wise. 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 galled with my folly,
They most must laugh. And why, sir, must
they so?

The why is plain as way to parish church :
He that a fool doth very wisely hit,
Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not,
The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd
Even by the squandering glances of the fool.
Invest me in my motley; give me leave
To speak my mind, and I will through and through
Cleanse the foul body of the infected world,
If they will patiently receive my medicine.

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: *

For thou thyself hast been a libertine,

As sensual as the brutish sting itself;
And all the embossed sores, and headed evils,
That thou with licence of free foot hast caught,
Wouldst 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,

(*) First folio, fin.

"Seem senseless of the bob."

The words not to, were supplied by Theobald. If any addition is really called for, that proposed by Mr. Collier's annotator-" But to seem," &c.-is well entitled to consideration.

Till that the weary very means do ebb?
What woman in the city do I name,
When that I say, The city-woman bears
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?
Who can come in, and say that I mean her,
When such a one as she, such is her neighbour?
Or what is he of basest function,

That says his bravery is not on my cost,
(Thinking that I mean him,) but therein suits
His folly to the mettle of my speech?

There then; how then? 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?

Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show
Of smooth civility: yet am I inland bred,
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 eyelids 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 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 command what help we have,
That to your wanting may be minister'd.

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.

comfort!

ORL. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good [Exit. DUKE S. Thou seest we are not all alono unhappy :

This wide and universal theatre
Presents more woeful pageants than the scene
Wherein we play in.

JAQ.
All the world's a stage,(1)
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

b Bravery-] Finery.

• Inland-] Opposed to upland. Orlando means that he is urbanely bred; brought up in civilized society; "-or, finally, in any uplandish village or corner of a Realme where is no resort but of poore rusticall or uncivill people."-PUTTENHAM's Arte of Poesie, 1589.

d And know some nurture.] And possess some courtesy, breeding, manners:-"It is a point of nurture, or good manners, to salute them that you meete. Urbanitas est salutare obvios."BARET'S Alvearie, 1580.

• With reason,-] We should, possibly, read reasons. Here, as in other places, Shakespeare evidently indulged in the perennia pun on reasons and raisins. A quibble, by the way, which Skelton long before found irresistible:

"Grete reysons with resons be now reprobitante,
For reysons are no resons, but resons current."

Speke Parrot. Dyce's Ed. vol. ii. p. 22.

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' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden," and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation,

age shifts

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
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 everything.

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 you were the good sir Roland's son,

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.

VOL. II.

145

J.

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; (1) 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.
[this!
OLI. O, that your highness knew my heart in
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.

"And hears the unexpressive nuptial song." And again, in the "Hymn on the Nativity" :

"Harping in loud and solemn quire,

With unexpressive notes to heaven's new-born heir."

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 a 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 one sickens, the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, means, and content, is without three good friends. That the property of rain is to wet,

a May complain of good breeding,-] That is, of a deficiency of good breeding. An elliptical mode of speech, which, as Whiter

and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep; 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.

TOUCH. Such a one is a natural philosopher.
Wast ever in court, shepherd?
COR. No, truly.

TOUCH. Then thou art damned.
COR. Nay, I hope,

TOUCH. Truly, thou art damned, like an illroasted egg, all on one side.

COR. For not being at court? your reason?

TOUCH. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never sawest good manners; if thou never sawest good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd.

COR. Not a whit, Touchstone: those, that are

remarked, is not peculiar to Shakespeare, or indeed to the English language.