Duke Sen.
I think he is transform'd into a beast,
For I can no where find him like a man.

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 discord in the spheres:
Go seek him; tell him I would speak with him. Enter Jaques.

Lord.
He saves my labour by his own approach.

Duke Sen.
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'th' forest,* ^note
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 poak,
And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock:
Thus may we 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;
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.
Who comes here?* ^note

Enter Orlando.

Orla.
Forbear, and eat no more.

Jaq.
Why, I have eat none yet.

Orla.
Nor shalt thou, 'till necessity be serv'd.

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 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.

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 stern commandment. But whate'er you are
That in this desert inaccessible,* ^note
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 Sen.
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 ministred.

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,
Opress'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.‡ ^note [Exit.

Duke Sen.
Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy:
This wide and universal theatre
Presents more woeful pageants than the scene
Wherein we play.

Jaq.
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;† ^note
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,* ^note 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.* ^note Enter Orlando with Adam.

Duke Sen.
Welcome: set down your venerable burden,
And let him feed.

Orla.
I thank you most for him.

Adam.
So had you need,
I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.

Duke Sen.
Welcome, fall too: I will not trouble you,
As yet to question you about your fortunes.
Give us some musick, and, good cousin, sing.
SONG.† ^note
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,
  Altho' thy breath be rude.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh,
  As benefits forgot:
Tho' thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp,
  As friend remembred not.

Duke Sen.
If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son,
As you have whisper'd faithfully you were,
And as mine eye doth his effigies witness,
Most truly limb'd, and living in your face,
Be truly welcome hither. I'm the duke
That lov'd your father. The residue of your fortune,

Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man,
Thou art welcome, as thy master is.
Support him by the arm; give me your hand,
And let me all your fortunes understand.* ^note [Exeunt. End of the Second Act.

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