D. s.
I think, he be transform'd into a beast;
For I can no where find him like a man.

1. L.
My lord, he is but even now gone hence;
Here was he merry, hearing of a song.

D. s.
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.

1. L.
He saves my labour by his own approach.

D. s.
Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this,
That your poor friends must woo your ^note company,
And cannot have't? What, you look merrily!

Jaq.
A fool, a fool!—I met a fool i'the forest,
A motley fool,—a miserable world!14Q0304—
As I do live by food, I met a fool;
Who lay'd 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 a eleven; ^note
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.

D. 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 bisquet
After a voyage,—he hath strange places cram'd
With observation, the which he vents
In mangl'd forms:—O, that I were a fool!
I am ambitious for a motley coat.

D. s.
Thou shalt have one.

Jaq.
It is my only suit;
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 gauled 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 seem14Q0305 senseless of the bob: if not,
The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd
Even by the squand'ring 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.

D. s.
Fie on thee! I can tell what thou would'st do.

Jaq.
What, for a counter, would I do, but good?

D. s.
Most mischeivous 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,
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 ^note 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, what then ^note? Let me see wherein
My speech 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 ^note here? Enter Orlando, with his Sword drawn.

Orl.
Forbear, and eat no more.

Jaq.
Why, I have eat none yet.

Orl.
Nor shalt not, 'till necessity be serv'd.

Jaq.
Of what kind should this cock come of?

D. s.
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?

Orl.
You touch'd my vein at first; the thorny point
Of bare distress hath ^note 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.

An you will not be answer'd with reason, I must die.

D. 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.

D. 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 pity'd;
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be:
In the which hope, I blush, ^note and hide my sword.

D. 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 minist'red. ^note

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,—
Opprest with two weak evils, age, and hunger,—
I will not touch a bit.

D. s.
Go find him out,
And we will nothing waste 'till you return.

Orl.
I thank ye; and be blest for your good comfort! [Exit Orlando.

D. s.
Thou see'st, we are not all alone unhappy:
This wide and universal theatre
Presents more woful pageants than the scene
Wherein we play in.14Q0306

Jaq.
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women meerly players:
They have their exits, and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, ^note 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's 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
Even in the canon'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,14Q0307
And so he plays his part: The sixth age shifts
Into the lean14Q0308 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 meer oblivion;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. Re-enter Orlando, with Adam.

D. s.
Welcome: Set down your venerable burthen,14Q0309
And let him feed.

Orl.
I thank you most for him.

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

D. s.
Welcome, fall to: I will not trouble you
As yet, to question you about your fortunes:—
Give us some musick; and, good cousin, sing.
SONG. Ami.