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 in-land 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.
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 stern commandment. But whate'er you are,
&plquo;That in this desart inaccessible,
&plquo;Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
&plquo;^{5 note}
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time;
&plquo;If ever you have look'd on better days;
&plquo;If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church;
&plquo;If ever sate at any good man's feast;
&plquo;If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear,
&plquo;And know what 'tis to pity, and be pitied;&prquo;
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 knoll'd to church:
And sate at good men's feasts, and wip'd our eyes
Of drops, that sacred pity had 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,

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.

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